


everywhere (i wanna be with you)

by itiswhatitisbutterfly



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Facials, Fluff, Harry in Panties, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Riding, Rimming, SO MUCH FLUFF, Strip Tease, Unplanned Pregnancy, if anything just read this for the scene where harry gives louis a lap dance, or for preggy harry being super cute and stuff, the stupidest meet cute ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3446438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itiswhatitisbutterfly/pseuds/itiswhatitisbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.</p><p>Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everywhere (i wanna be with you)

**Author's Note:**

> I started this because I finished University and had nothing to do while looking for a job. That was in Novemeber, it is now February and I'm still sitting here. It was also supposed to be a tiny little one shot (the original idea being: model harry), turns out it is the biggest thing I've written in one go. This fic got me through every sucky or bad day I've had in the last few months (and there have been plenty) it was like every time something shitty happen in life (or even in this fandom) I had this lovely piece to work on.
> 
> Many thanks to a few particular songs, first of all the entire Rumours album by Fleetwood Mac specifically the title song Everywhere for being the inspiration and first song behind this fic, as well as Dreams for the scene it features in. And to Lana Del Rey and Gods & Monsters, thank you for inspiring Harry and therefore me (when reading this you may wonder what song is being played, it's this one). And to Change Your Ticket by One Direction for coming out while I was writing this and giving me the strength I needed.
> 
> Enjoy the preggy Harry!

It’s London, to Milan, a short week in Paris and back full circle that leads Harry and Zayn to Liam Payne’s London door stoop. There is nothing Harry wants more after completing his Autumn/Winter Menswear circuit, than to lie in his bath for three hours with scented candles as his only companion.

But apparently the world has other plans, so instead of straight off the plane to a new set of fresh linen and the comforts of a deep relaxing soak, it’s straight off the plane to capture Niall Horan’s heart.

Six months ago at a promotional party for a certain type of fancy vodka Zayn met the romantic comedy heartthrob. They bonded over a love of each other’s works and premium Russian vodka. Zayn thought that was that, it was too good to be true, but somehow Niall’s publicist found his team’s number and here they are standing on a stranger's doorstep with a very special invite to a party provided by Niall himself in hope of seeing Zayn again.

Liam Payne writes and sings sad sappy ballads about how his hetero love is so difficult. Harry has a very cold borderline frost bitten nose and his bags are sitting in the entry of his flat unopened and his bath is empty. He loves Zayn, and is the worlds bestest best friend, so despite all those facts he smiles as the large wooden door is opened wide.

“Zayn, you’re here!” Niall Horan answers with a sloshing beer in one hand and a pair of googly heart eyes that give away the fact that he has probably been standing by the door waiting all night. He bypasses Harry to tackle Zayn in a hug. It’s delightful to see but Harry stands in the wind with bottle of supermarket wine.

They are bloody high fashion runway models and it’s the best he could gather together with less than an hour’s notice. It is shameful and a terrible representation of Harry’s domesticated party skills. He would normally make something because turning up to a strangers party empty handed never goes down well.

“Niall, this is Harry,” Zayn says when he is finally freed, he motions toward Harry as he says, “And Harry, this is Niall.”

The light pink blush on both their cheeks is adorable and truly, Harry couldn’t be happier. “Hi,” he smiles as Niall gives him a warm embrace as a greeting. They pat each other politely on the back.

He likes Niall Horan. He has ever since he saw his beach scenes in Change Your Ticket when he was just starting out and Harry was just figuring out all kinds of new strange feelings. He has a nice chest area. Zayn has good taste.

“Make yourself at home Harry,” Niall says giving him a final pat on his back as he pulls away. Harry is quite sure this isn’t Niall’s house.

He nods and steps into the doorway so he can dry his boots. The house is filled with people everywhere bursting at the seams. Harry shrugs off his coat and hangs it, he turns to ask Niall where the kitchen is but feels instantly guilty. Niall and Zayn are engrossed in each other like there is no one else left in the room. Niall seems to be taking him outside as he tugs his hand.

The perfect wingman knows when to step back.

Harry wanders down the hall and makes a couple of turns until he finds what he is looking for. It’s not the host who he really should find and thank, but the kitchen which is surprisingly almost empty, everyone seeming to find outside more entertaining as they abandon the rooms.

There is shouting and music, and someone keeps screaming, ‘Happy Birthday!’ and ‘Fireworks time’ but it all mutes out as he inches further away from the commotion.

He strolls in and finds one other soul between the empty bottles, glasses and masses of food.

At first he doesn’t recognise him, all caught up in jet lag and the frazzled feeling of really wanting a bottle opener for the wine and being freaked out by a life sized ice sculpture. But as he turns he can make him out and it all makes sense.

“Hi,” Harry squeaks out all high pitched when he opens his mouth for a gasp of air. Louis Tomlinson turns from where he is looking in a draw filled with knives and forks to catch his eye over his shoulder. He looks him over once and quirks an eyebrow like Harry always imagined he would or, like he has seen him do countless times from a movie screen.

Yeah, Louis is definitely just as attractive on screen as he is off. It does him justice but then, there is something about seeing a masterpiece in person. He looks like caramel vanilla scented candles and lifelong monogamy.

Harry raises his bottle of supermarket wine in front of him. “Great minds think alike,” he stumbles out. This is a terrible first impression. He has just made a fool of himself in front of probably one of the most outrageously handsome men in the world. He doesn’t say that lightly.

Louis lets out a small laugh from beneath his smile as he grabs a bottle opener from between the cutlery and throws it at Harry. “Catch,” he says, as he turns around, holding his own bottle against his chest.

Harry, of course, doesn’t catch it. It clanks against Liam Payne’s hardwood floors and Louis Tomlinson laughs louder joining in on the noise. His eyes sparkle and Harry thinks of all the ways he could get him to look like that again and again.

“We can work on that,” he smiles, as he leans against the counter putting one foot behind the other and drinking Harry in.

He’s wearing all black with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and a styled quiff in his hair. It twists around the front like a French pastry. Harry would quite like to eat French pastries with Louis and his French pastry hair in his Paris apartment while they listened to the city wake up. He’s dreamy. It’s also important to note the way his sleeves are rolled make his arms looked edible.

Harry picks it up from the floor and isn’t sure what to do after that. He puts the bottle on the kitchen island and steps forward to try and uncork it. Louis Tomlinson just makes his palms all shaky and that.

He needs to get it together, so what if he is the only person in the room with one of People’s Sexiest men. He has conversed with Anna Wintour before and once Karl Lagerfeld referred to him by first name. He didn’t get all weird and breathless like this, and they both had the power to end his hopes and dreams in a blink.

“How do you- Liam Payne, aye?” Harry laughs, his cheeks flaming bloody red and the cork refusing the budge no matter how hard he tries. And he tries hard.

Louis sighs and Harry looks over at him as he watches his face fall apart like it has been split down the middle and he can’t help but grin at him like he is a tiny defenceless animal or a baby. Louis Tomlinson is going all crinkly eyed because Harry Styles is a mess around pretty boys. He mentally pats himself on the back.

Maybe it isn’t so bad after all. It might work to his advantage, Louis might like bumbling idiots.

“Here,” he says stepping forward, putting his own supermarket wine down on the bench. Harry lets go and lets him take over. “I don’t really know Liam, I’m here because a friend made me come with. Hence the whole, ‘I don’t really know that many people thing,’ it’s not really my crowd,” he sighs through clenched teeth and motioning dramatically to their little hideaway.

Harry laughs. “My friend Zayn made me come, he was invited-“

“Zayn Malik?” Louis says interrupting him with a hint of danger in his eyes as he stops moving his hands.

Harry nods. Zayn is quite memorable. He isn’t surprised Louis knows him. “Yeah.”

“Well, well, well,” he says shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “Look at where fate has put us Harry Styles. Niall Horan is the man behind my being here at this mess of a party when I’ve got to catch a plane out of here in the morning for LA.”

He knows his name.

Harry doesn’t let his mouth drop. “I walked Lanvin yesterday and Alexander Wang this morning,” he sighs. “I’ve still got make up on and these boots are hiding my blisters,” Harry says waving his leopard print Saint Laurent booties around as if to earn his compassion.

Louis laughs and gives him a sympathetic pout. “The things we do for our friends,” he chuckles, finally popping the cork on the bottle. Harry is tempted to bypass a glass and just drink but he wants to make a good impression and remain classy, he lets Louis fill a glass and hand it over. Their hands just brush with the smallest of touches.

“Did he just leave you when he walked through the door?” Harry thinks out loud and thinks back to the love struck Zayn he had witnessed only a few moments ago.

“Yeah,” Louis replies, opening his own bottle. “He went straight off searching for him, I don’t even know why he needed me to come for moral support. He seems to have it all under control.”

Harry smiles behind the glass as he drinks.

Louis has such lovely blue eyes, and he is taller than Harry thought he would be. He thinks it is supposed to be the opposite. Does the screen make you taller or shorter? He knows he is staring but that being said, Louis seems to be watching him back just as attentively.

“You look fine,” he says, with a wink and breaking their staring contest. “You might have sore feet and a bit of glitter in your hair, but you look beautiful.”

“Not tired?” Harry says, faking a yawn into his palm. He tries not to let him know his heart is pounding against this rib cage and this is all playing out like a dream. He wonders if Louis calls everyone beautiful, or only pretty boys in kitchens.

“Not one bit,” he breathes out.

Harry didn’t realise they were both still standing so close to one another. He makes no effort to move as their voices increasingly become more hushed and they listen to everyone laughing out on the deck and patio. They chat for a bit before it seems to dawn on them they have just been standing here alone, ignoring anyone else who wanders in, and drinking in the others company.

“Do you want to go and watch the fireworks?” Louis asks, cocking his head slightly inquiring if this, if them being here is alright as the sounds start in the distance.

“I don’t like fireworks,” Harry sighs. He’ll watch them he if has to, but he hopes Louis doesn’t laugh at the way he jumps every time and covers his ears. Besides, there are enough fireworks jumping around in his stomach right now to satisfy him

“Do you want to get out of here?” Louis says, motioning to the huge kitchen with its flashy gold and silver awards lining the cupboards where the plates should be. He also not so vaguely motions to the giant framed print of Liam Payne and his girlfriend Sophia Smith on the wall encased in glass. He doesn’t need to point out the ice sculpture.

Harry nods his head. He’d love that.

.

“I’m sure they don’t mind,” Louis sighs, kicking his feet up on the dashboard of his car. It’s just a Range Rover and Harry has tried to push his seat back so it’s almost lying and he can rest his legs. He just feels so relaxed.

“But what if Niall tries to kiss-“ Harry worries.

“It’ll be alright,” Louis laughs again, “Zayn is a big boy, yeah?”

Harry bites his bottom lip and tilts his head back and forth as if completing the idea. It makes Louis laugh louder and say, “You might just be the world’s worst wingman Harry Styles.”

Harry sits up quickly. “Coming from you!” he laughs motioning to the car and where they have parked it and to their food. It’s cheat day.

“I’m not taking it back,” Louis replies, folding his arms and lifting his chin. He cracks a smile however and Harry has to cover his face with a palm to stop his own giggles.

How did they get here so quickly from meeting by accident in a place neither of them wanted to be? It’s like something just instantly clicked. Harry doesn’t even remember the time between them saying hello and ending up in a drive thru trying to find coins between the seats to grab chicken nuggets without needing to credit it, stalling the line and Louis signing an autograph to get a discount.

It’s been like this for almost two hours now. He just can’t stop smiling.

“I’ll take the title then,” Harry laughs, “Maybe if I own it Zayn will stop dragging me to stupid parties.”

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up. “Stupid parties,” he says affronted. “I’ll have you know Liam Payne throws the best parties I’ve ever been to. Such style and grace.”

Harry throws a French fry at his quiff and before he knows it Louis is throwing himself over to the other side of the car to tackle him to his seat.

“Liar,” Harry giggles as his heart rate quickens and his hands are held above his head. He wriggles just a tad to try and free himself but gives up faster than this started, a little breathless with laughter. His heart rackets against his rib cage and the veins in his wrists jump as his mind races.

“You threw a chip at me,” Louis smiles menacingly with a bit of admiration.

“You deserved it,” Harry smiles back with a twinkle in his eyes. He can picture where this is going already and before he can play the reel in his head Louis is putting it into action.

His lips are kind of salty and his mouth tastes like the discounted wine he grabbed and any normal time before he had kissed someone he would have thought of these things and panicked. He doesn’t worry. Louis in a quick flash dips down to connect their lips in a brush. And that brush is like being licked by the sun or some other stupid metaphor about sunshine. It is gone before he knows it and Harry reaches up again for it, connecting their lips and bodies as they lie on top of each other in the passenger seat, the hand brake digging into their sides. Louis lips are soft like he expected and they are as sweet as he wanted. It’s everything he thought it could be and everything his mind had been creating and dreaming up for the last two hours. It lights up the embers within his heart he didn’t even know were waiting with brushes of lips, tongue and the smallest clash of teeth.

When Louis pulls away Harry is just left blinking up at him with stars in his eyes as cliché as it sounds.

“You’re a runway model,” Louis says, his hand reaching out and brushing a loose lock off of Harry’s forehead that has escaped from his bun.

Louis is beautiful up close, Harry wants to drink it in all day. He wants to devour every inch of his lines, angles and features from his head through his body, now pressed tight against him, until there is nothing left to explore.

“Not a very good one,” Harry breathes back through a slight whimper.

Louis clearly doesn’t like that idea and he scrunches his nose. Oh, he is wonderful, Harry thinks suddenly. He always knew in a fond sort of way. It’s easy to tell who the good ones are in the business from a far, from up close and word of the street. He’d always knew Louis with his smile and his good nature and big heart would be a delight. He didn’t know he would capture him like this though, and so quickly.

And if Harry is being hopeful, and if the way Louis is holding him is being truthful, he might have done the same sort of crime back at him.

“I’m better at print,” Harry whispers, “I’ve tripped too many times for you to call me a runway model. And you were nominated for a Golden Globe, and you kissed me.”

“You threw a chip at me,” Louis replies, just as quiet and soft.

Harry grins back at him all teeth and so his eyes are just tiny slits. “I liked it,” Harry says alluding to more than one thing.

He hopes Louis gets his train of thought. “Me too. I like you, Harry Styles,” he replies leaning down to peck at his nose, cheeks and forehead.

.

Harry wakes up fully clothed (to his shock) lying on top of a fully made bed in a strange apartment. Someone has thrown a soft blanket over him and the pillow and sheets on the opposite side look slept in. They bear the marks of a companion.

It takes him about three seconds to vaguely remember Louis leaving sometime this morning before the sun was up to catch his flight. He had promised to be back soon if Harry recalls correctly, it settles warmly against his chest. Louis had run a hand through his hair and told him he would hopefully see him later before picking up his bags and disappearing into the sky.

After kissing in the empty parking lot in the passenger seat they had somehow ended up here. Harry thinks it had to do with Louis tempting him with the knowledge that he had Scrabble. Also, Harry didn’t want to leave his side with the knowledge that as soon as he did he wouldn’t be able to see him again for a week or two. He knew the moment he closed his eyes or closed the door he would be gone again just as fast as he came crashing in.

It’s not that he was complaining. He knows what a hectic schedule looks like and the joys and pains of a job that takes you across continents and the globe. Harry has to be in Manchester by Wednesday because he has a perfume campaign calling his name.

It would just be nice sometimes if the world could stop for a second so he could catch his breath. But when you are in your prime there is no chance for that, he knows Louis knows it too. You just have to take a deep one and not let go.

Harry looks like a right mess when he climbs out of bed. He shuffles around the flat looking for his boots and coat before he realises it is an absolute tip. Louis doesn’t seem to be the best at cleaning and they left a lot of useless stuff out last night from their many adventures. Harry has no idea why they pulled his entire DVD collection out and spread it across the floor. They seemed to be finding Louis’ face on the covers. Harry shakes his head as the memories rush back. He was totally grading them on how hot the shirtless scenes were in his many motion pictures ranking them best to worst.

He showers, cleans the room and remakes the bed. He puts their dirty plates away. And he finds a surprise sitting on the kitchen bench left just for him.

He’s put the dishwasher on and is putting the last of them away when his phone rings. Zayn’s face flashes across the screen as he looks at it and swipes. Harry doesn’t get a chance to say hello.

“I’m sorry. I really did try to find you last night-“

He presses the phone against his cheek and shoulder and finishes what he was doing with his hands.

“We did try find you but we just left. Sorry H, I hope you weren’t too lonely. I figured you were somewhere with someone?”

Harry feels just a tiny bit guilty. But then again, he doesn’t really regret it at all. “It’s fine. It was great. How was your night? I want to know all about Niall.”

He expects Zayn to start on a never ending monologue recounting the perfect events of the night before and his lovely Irish knight in shining armour. Instead, Zayn mumbles through a short answer of, “Yeah, it was good. He’s good.”

“What does that mean?” Harry inquires as he walks around the living room. He takes a moment to admire the picture of Louis and his sisters on the shelf, next to one of who he assumes is his mother. He talked about them loads in their brief moment together.

“It’s complicated.”

Harry rolls his eyes into the back of his head and spins around floating about the room. He doesn’t know how he didn’t see that one happening. “Alright,” he sighs into the phone. He refuses to push.

“Anyway,” Zayn continues, “I’m picking up breakfast, as an apology. I’ll be home in ten.”

Harry quickly scans the room. Yeah, he definitely isn’t home nor will he be home in ten minutes. “I’m not home,” he replies biting his tongue.

“Oh. Where are you then?” Zayn says as the background noise increases. Harry can read between the lines quickly and knows he means who are you with and why don’t I know.

He has a split second to decide. He can see London if he looks out the window in the kitchen. He can also see the photos of Louis’ and his family, and a few from different sets across the globe and mementos.

“I’m at Louis Tomlinson’s place,” he says, he can’t help the way it sounds like he is spewing sunshine when he says his name. Or the way his face looks as he sees it reflected back at him in the picture frames glass.

“Oh. Okay. Cool,” Zayn says calmly before erupting into a very loud, “What the fuck Harry?”

“What are you doing there?” he says trying to regain his cool and attempting to whisper as if Harry is hiding in a bathroom and Louis is waiting outside.

Harry laughs to himself. “I’d say it’s complicated and spare you the details but I’m not you,” Harry reasons. He knows Zayn knows he is just taking the shit out of him. “We hung out last night. He rescued me from that party and bought me fries when I was hungry. We might be in love. He is messy and can’t cook very well but he made me toast and stuck a post it note on it that said, ‘Heat up in microwave? Thank you for being you, but don’t have your pass code as your birthday. It’s too easy to guess. Please call me.’ I haven’t asked yet, but my hunch tells me he is a dog person.”

Harry looks at the sad piece of toast probably made at 6:30 this morning and he wants to eat it just for all it represents. If he looks at it close enough he can see three kids, a cat and a house with a large backyard. Or that might be the jet lag speaking.

“You slept with Louis Tomlinson? The guy Niall took as his friend? The actor.”

Instantly defensive, Harry is quick to say, “We didn’t sleep together! I passed out on top of the covers.”

“Oh, you’re really into him aren’t you?”

Harry has no idea how he knows that just from what he has said. He doesn’t deny its truth.  “Awfully presumptuous of you,” Harry pouts. “I want pastries- Actually no, I take that back only go somewhere selling good real petit fours.”

Zayn laughs and Harry knows if they were together right now he would be giving him the middle finger with a fond look on his face. “I’m not going back to Paris for your apology present, it’s the bakery down the street or nothing.”

“Louis would get me them-“

“I’ll pick you up some French Fancies like last time then you brat,” Zayn says fondly, yet ultimately taking the piss out of Harry.

Harry makes a retching noise as a reply pretending to dry heave at the thought. “I’ll never forgive you,” Harry sighs. He has no time for fake wannabe boxed mass produced pieces of sugar. And he has no time for Zayn, he hangs up the phone because it is what Zayn expects him to do.

Harry stares longingly at his cold piece of toast on its white plate with its pink post it. Nobody has ever done something as adorable as this before. He knows he hasn’t know him for twenty four hours yet and they are already apart but, if the thumping of his heart is correct he’s got a good feeling about this. There is just something so right. And he doesn’t just mean Louis’ thighs and jawline.

He hasn’t got the heart to throw it away so he chews on the toast and snaps an affectionate selfie of himself doing so. He opens up his contacts and sure enough, Louis is there with the peach emoji next to his name. He groans because he knows that refers to Harry saying Louis’ arse looked like a peach in his tight tight pants in that bad teen action movie he did when he was barely eighteen.

Harry sends him the selfie shamelessly saying it’s the best toast he has ever had and he is entirely shocked a man with such high domestic living skills like Louis hasn’t been tied down yet. He hopes Louis gets the hint.

.

After three days of doing nothing but lying on the sofa, taking long baths, painting canvases in his underwear and desperately trying to force himself to keep up his gym routine (and sharing a few sneaky and flirty text messages with Louis) Harry is back at work again. He lies on a bed for three hours in nothing but pants and a sheer open lace shirt clutching a bottle of perfume against his chest while a camera high on the ceiling photographs him from a strange birds eye view perspective. It’s not that much different from the sofa and sweat pants. It’s fun and he loves the way he can make the camera his own, fall in love with it for a few hours and hopefully produce pictures that reflect that back.

It’s not so fun having a perfume overdose induced headache and smelling like vanilla sticks, roasted rose petals and teal extracts because the art director when overboard with giving the room ambiance and creating a scented aesthetic. He gets a lot of compliments. It does make him feel very sparkly and fabulous, but a little light headed.

It’s back home to the sofa or so he thought, Harry is barely back in London for a day before Caroline his manager is telling him to pack his bags. “They like the shots, but you know what its like,” she says, swearing beneath her breath and cursing uncooperative visionaries who over blow their art budgets. “They want group shots. I’m sorry doll, you’re needed in New York.”

And just like that he is on the road again.  

.

Louis is not so casually stalking Harry’s instagram while out at a five star restaurant with his future fellow crew mates celebrating the finality of their signed contracts. It’s going fine for all of two seconds before he reads the first caption of the most recent upload and almost chokes on his gnocchi.

They have been texting briefly as best as they can off and on for the last few days in what Louis assumes is casual flirting. He isn’t sure. It could be, or Harry could just be like this with everyone. But Louis is definitely trying to put something down for him to pick up. It is killing him gently that he had to leave him that morning and he is being kept apart from him now.  Hence the choking and grabbing his glass of water action.

Harry’s feed is beautiful, surprisingly just like him. He has fancy pastries, puppies, shots of the sky and multiple pictures of a few small children cuddling a cat, baking in a kitchen and trying to pose wearing his hats. When Louis refreshes he has posted an artful picture of a his legs and feet showing off a lovely pair of dark brown suede boots on what looks like a wet sidewalk with the caption, “New York concrete.”

Harry is probably barely ten minutes away from Louis and he wouldn’t have even know if he wasn’t bored and trying to find out more about this boy who stumbled into his life while everyone makes light conversation. Once his breathing has returned and he has assured the person next to him he is fine he opens up his messages.

Their last conversation that took place only that morning was about Harry’s love of candles, specifically different scented ones. Louis found it all very endearing the way Harry wrote a paragraph length description of the lovely candles his sister had got him just last Christmas. For some reason Louis must have completely bypassed telling him he landed at JFK this morning from LAX. He was probably distracted by all the cute talk and the way his mind was calculating how many candles he could take back to London without it getting obvious.

Instead of greeting him he sends Harry a message that gets straight to the point, “You’re in New York and you didn’t tell me????” he desperately hopes he hasn’t misread the picture or read too far into it. Mostly because the knowledge that they might be in the same city again is enough to get his heart racing and his mind jumping.

Over the last few days he has learnt Harry isn’t the world’s best text companion, he tends to fall asleep mid thought and you’ll get a reply three hours later saying sorry I forgot to press send. So Louis isn’t expecting much and is shocked when his pocket vibrates while the director is making a final celebratory toast.

Harry’s message reads, “Yes? It was a last minute thing,” and no more than five seconds later (probably after a quick google search) it is followed up with one reading, “You’re in New York. Why didn’t YOU tell me???”

The rest of the group starts standing and getting ready to leave, Louis follows whilst he sends, “Where are you? I’m staying at The Palace. Come visit?”

He should be embarrassed by how desperate he is to see his face again, feel his hands and be wrapped up in his smell. He has this weird buzzing feeling beneath his fingers when he remembers his laugh or smile, and the thought that he could hear them again sends him into overdrive. He can’t believe he has surrendered his control this easily to someone he isn’t even sure reciprocates it back. In the end it sort of seems like that doesn’t even matter, he wants to keep Harry happy and he wants to live off his warmth no matter what. But love would just be everything and more.

Harry informs him he is at his friends loft and Louis hopes for the best. His co star Emma tries to plead and guilt trip Louis to joining them at the bar but he has to decline. It’s not that he doesn’t like her, she’s nice and all and he is supposed to spend time with her to pump up the rumours they are trickling in but he just really wants to see one other person. She shrugs him off and tells him to behave himself with a stupid wink like she has been reading his text messages over his shoulder.

He sends Harry a series of prayer hand emoji’s and goes back to his hotel full of hope..

.

He doesn’t know what great thing he did in a past life to deserve it, but a soft sleepy looking Harry with those brown boots and a jumper that almost reaches his knees knocks on his door. His hair isn’t tied and it curls around his tiny ears framing his face.

“Hi,” he breathes, his breath still icy, “It’s cold out,” he smiles. His eyes twinkle in the hotel rooms dim lights and Louis can’t stop feeling relieved that he is still real, still here and he wasn’t just a dream that night.

Louis thinks Harry is probably thinking the same thing. He can feel it. “Hello,” Louis says, his voice cracking slightly. “You’re here,” he says, thinking out loud.

“And I’m real,” Harry giggles, taking his fingers and touching his cheeks to check.

“I thought you were just a dream for a while there,” Louis says with soft honesty.

He ushers him into the warm and closes the door behind him as Harry takes off his woollen gloves. It should be strange and it really should feel like inviting a stranger into your room. It doesn’t.

He wants to climb all over the bed and grab at the mountains of pillows so Harry follows him. Louis wants to keep them warm with the blankets and trace the panes of his face while Harry tells him all about how he ended up here in New York and what the last few days have been like without him by his side. He wants to listen to that slow drawl and he wants to punctuate every one of his sentences with an encouragement of, ‘Oh interesting’ or ‘Yeah, keep going’ so he never stops sharing and opening up all the dark crevices of his heart.

Louis watches him with careful eyes and does just that, he takes his hand and does what his heart desires. Louis tells him about the award show he attended and the funny stories of who he met in the bathroom while Harry kicks his boots off and rolls around laughing upside down. Harry tells him about taking his friends dog for a run, Zayn failing to share details of his relationship with Niall with him and all about the perfume shoot that led him here.

“Is that why you smell so good?” Louis says arching an eyebrow leaning down to sniff at him and rub his cheek all over Harry’s chest. He smells like a floristry or a bakery filled with goods. Harry’s chest rumbles as Louis jokes around making silly noises and trying to nibble at his belly. “I could eat you,” he teases.

He doesn’t mean it in a sexual way but if the way Harry stutters a little bit is any indication he can pretend he did. “Oh,” Louis says stopping his movement, he puts his chin on top of his hands and stares up at Harry. His hair is all fanned out over the pillows and he bites his bottom lip so it turns shiny and red. He ducks his head down, as if shy all of a sudden.

Louis isn’t like this. He likes him so much and he barely knows him. But it feels, honestly, like he does know him entirely because Harry has always been a part of him. It’s like he has been sitting beneath the surface and at the back of his mind all this time and meeting him just woke it up.

Louis isn’t one to easily fall either, he doesn’t know if he has even been in love before.

Sure, at the time he has thought it could be, but when he looks back at it he can see it clearly for what it was. This feels different, he doesn’t need time and space to know he likes Harry or to know what he feels is true. It is written all over them.

“Harold,” he says quiet and tender. Harry’s eyes flutter open and Louis remembers why he is a model for the twentieth time tonight. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

Harry inquires with a tilt of the heart and he hums as he cocks one eyebrow and presses his pointer finger against his lips signalling he won’t spill Louis’ words. “It’s not a secret,” Louis says. He moves his body slightly so they are closer and pressed together at the sides.

“Alright,” Harry replies.

“I’ve just met you, but I really do like you a lot,” Louis says, honest and putting his heart on the table with a clear and steady voice.

The corner of Harry’s pink mouth instantly rises on its own and he struggles to stop it. His brow furrows just a tad. Harry begins shyly, “Me too. But Lou, aren’t you seeing that girl you are going to be in that movie with? Isn’t this a bit-”

Louis tries not to laugh at the way Harry is struggling not to pout. “Did you skip your PR training superstar?”

Harry shrugs his shoulders. Models don’t get much PR training. Harry more so spent his training with people trying to get him to walk properly and not drag his feet in dress shoes.

“She’s nice but they’re only saying that stuff to get people talking,” he says carefully. He adds, not so carefully or soft, “I’m actually pretty gay if we are being honest.”

Harry lets out a loud laugh that echoes against the walls and breaks their soft sleepy talk. He covers his mouth with the back of his hand. “I didn’t mean to laugh,” he says shaking his head. He knows exactly what is going through Harry’s head right this second, he’s worried he has offended him or something because Louis and his sexuality isn’t top news headlines. It’s not like that though.

He takes Harry’s hand and threads their fingers together like it is the simplest thing in the world. “Everyone who matters knows. I don’t really even care who knows if we’re being honest. I’ve just been waiting for the right person to come around,” Louis says slowly his eyes never leaving Harry’s green ones to reassure him.

Harry swallows his breath down and replies just as soft as ever. “I feel the same way, I know what you mean.”

“So you like me then?” Louis says teasing him and trying to lighten the mood again as he plays with his fingers casually and makes his cheeks turn a new shade of rosy, it matches the pale pink polish on his fingers. It’s a cute colour on Harry.

“Since the moment I met you,” he replies with stars in his eyes. “Oh that sounds so stupid,” he says listening to himself speak. Louis watches him carefully as he laughs so his eyes disappear and his dimples pop out. When he stops he can tell Louis has been doing nothing but admire him so Harry tilts his head and asks, “What you looking at you?”

“You,” he replies simply. He is well and truly fucked for good.

Harry shuffles just a bit closer on the bed and the cold wintery New York air swirls outside their windows in its January chill. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he tells him, not asks, sweetly. Louis would quite like to meet his candy lips again so he waits until Harry connects them.

It’s a soft and tender thing shared between them, and only the four walls that surround them get to know about it. Louis threads a hand through Harry’s chocolate waterfall of hair pushing it back behind his ear from where it has escaped as he kisses him telling his body what his mind and mouth had shared just moments before. They kiss until they are breathless and then they just wait to start again. Louis kisses his lips until they are chapped red and his tongue is tired and tied. Then he starts on pecking his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. Paris calls,” Harry replies.

“Stay the night?”

Harry nods but adds with an air of proper sass, “I don’t put out on first dates Tomlinson.”

Louis scoffs at the implication and bites his bottom lip for it. Harry probably likes it more than he thought he would. “This isn’t the first date. That’s for the morning darling, just you wait.”

It’s strange how much sexual tension buzzes between them like a live wire. Normally it would combust quickly and burn out. Louis would give in and give up to move on. This is different and he knows neither of them are prepared to risk the sacrifice. Louis knows when they cross the line there won’t be any turning back.

They kiss lazily for a while between laughter until it is well past midnight and they brush their teeth bumping elbows and hips at the sink. Louis laughs as Harry washes his face with some fancy cleanser that magically appears from the bottom of his bag. Harry scolds Louis reminding him he can’t afford breakouts or blemishes. He also grabs a pillow to hit him over the head with, which ends in Harry pinned to the sheets and more kisses and tickling which Louis uses to force an apology out of him.

It all ends in them cuddled up under the covers, Harry’s head on Louis’ chest and Louis’ heart thumping a rhythmic beat pumping all sorts of fantastical ideas of love, the future and Harry by his side. He knows he’s falling fast.

.

When Louis wakes Harry is already up and scrolling on his phone with damp hair. Louis watches him for a moment or two as he sits up against the pillows checking his messages. He has put his jeans on but bypassed a shirt it seems. He shows of his lovely tattoos. Louis admires them because it is the first time he has seen them in person. He did once see Harry half naked on a billboard, but this is better. He briefly wonders how many gorgeous pictures of Harry are out there he hasn’t seen, he tries to store that idea for later.

He watches his eyelashes flutter and the way he plays with his bottom lip, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. He rubs at his nose and smiles at an instagram post before he puts the phone down and stares at his fingertips for chips in his polish. Louis is so desperately, sort of maybe in love with this fool of a boy. Harry’s eyes shift toward Louis where he is just barely poking his head out from beneath the sheets and catches him. He instantly blushes.

“How long have you been watching me?” he squeaks.

Louis laughs from beneath the comforter. “You’re very cute in the morning,” Louis says, all morning voice rough and tender. He pulls the blankets off and stretches his arms.

“Well,” Harry starts, “You’re very cute when you sleep. You make sweet little noises.” He reaches to pinch Louis cheek and because Louis is a sap he lets him and smiles sweetly to sedate him. Harry slaps his cheek slightly as he says, “Get your arse out of bed, we don’t have all day.”

Which is true, they barely have any time at all. Louis couldn’t get his feet on the floor fast enough. He has all sorts of grand plans but when he sneaks a peek out the windows the weather doesn’t seem to be holding up at all. He thinks of how long it will take to get around town and the roads filled with unmoving cars and how they don’t have much time at all before Harry will need to go back to his friend’s to apologize before he grabs his bags and leaves. Louis’ assistant keeps blowing up his phone and he keeps ignoring it. He doesn’t feel like being good and planning meetings.

He gets ready as fast as he can while Harry lies upside down on the bed humming a song under his breath. He looks very peaceful and by the time Louis is ready and dressed Harry still doesn’t have a shirt on. Technically, Louis beats him by being organized first.

In regards to the weather, and the fact that Harry doesn’t have a coat, Louis can think of only one place they should go. Louis often stays at the same hotels and The Palace is no exception. He walks them, with a tender hand on Harry’s back through the lobby and toward the classic New York styled bakery on the hotels ground level.

As soon as Harry spots where they are going he asks with a smile, “You did stalk me on instagram didn’t you?”

“Maybe I did see your hundreds of photos of French markets and your obsession with sweet things, or maybe I guessed.”

“It’s not an obsession, I’m a model. I don’t eat bad food,” Harry huffs fibbing about his sweet tooth.

Louis pinches his arm as he opens the door for them to enter. “You’re a bean pole,” he says proving his point as he can’t grab at any meat.

Harry makes a little noise of discomfort but his heart eyes give him away. They spend far too long staring in the cabinets with Louis getting taught all sorts of new things about cuts, colours and textures by Harry. He is a good student but butchers any French Harry tries to help him with. It’s quiet, probably because of the time, the cool temperatures keeping everyone at home and the fact that it is a weekday so the girls at the counter watch fondly.

Harry is explaining the difference between a macaron and a macaroon carefully and the shop girls look at each other listening intently.

Harry babbles on, “-macarons are sweet and made of almonds, they look like candy-“

“I like your hair like this,” Louis says out of the blue, stopping them both mid thought.

Harry stops talking and his finger remains pointed at the glass but he turns to smile at him, his nose wrinkled and his lips turned up. “What?” he blushes.

“I like half up and half down,” he shrugs. “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you,” Harry says, the fond never leaving his face. “I like your hair like this, all soft and stuff.”

They order almost everything they can get their hands on. They sip coffee and share blueberry fig tarts, napoleans and an eclair between them. Harry tempts Louis into trying the very intricate looking fleur d’automne by waving a fork in his face like an aeroplane. They tease each other about fifty times with reminders that they are sweet enough each time making them giggle laughter louder than before.

It isn’t until they are going to leave that the girls from behind the counter timidly ask Louis for a picture. Normally, Louis would notice someone watching and waiting for a moment. He was distracted the whole time and feels a bit guilty that they waited so long. Harry takes the camera and snaps them standing in front of the cabinets of pastries, he does his best to make them all laugh pulling funny faces behind the phone. When he hands it back the young girl in her bakery uniform asks politely, “Are you a model?”

Harry confirms her suspicions with a nod. “I knew it, I see you all the time,” she smiles back nodding and pointing to her friend.

Louis flaps his hand around in the air, “Oh look at me,” he says, “So famous, you see me on all the fashion blogs darling.”

Harry grabs his hand and shakes his head in laughter, his other holds their boxed macarons. “Thank you,” he says to the girls who look more interested in posting their claims to fame to twitter as he yanks Louis out of the store giggling along next to him.

They aren’t sure what to do next after that. They have never done this before. Harry needs to get a move on if he wants to make it downtown to get all his things before he goes to the airport. But Louis doesn’t feel like goodbyes. It is never the right time to let someone go.

He stands in the lobby and Harry hands him their box of macarons, carefully selected by Louis and his very specific tastes. Louis takes them with very careful and silent hands.

“Do you have to go?” Louis asks softly.

“I’d love to stay, but I’ve got vogue,” Harry says sadly, but there is no mistaking the bit of pride he gets in saying the world. Louis feels it too. He wants to pinch his pretty rosy cheek. He wants to kiss them a little (a lot) as well.

“I know,” he sighs. “And I’ve got scripts to pick and start to learn. I’ll be out of here soon I swear.”

“I’ll wait.”

He lets his feet push him off the ground just an inch to lean forward and kiss him softly on the mouth, just once before he goes and disappears. Harry wraps an arm around his waist to reassure him as he kisses back. It’s soft and is a promise that even though they might not know when, they will see each other soon and continue once again.

Louis’ stands alone in the lobby until he is gone, joining the masses on the wet pavement streets and disappearing into the sky eventually.

.

When Harry lands in Paris the first thing Zayn tells him is he wants to be taught yoga and Harry spends three minutes just staring at him suspiciously. It is not normal behaviour. He factors it down to the unreadable Niall situation because when he presses later for details Zayn is silent again.

“You don’t want to tell me anything?” Harry says, arms crossed with a cross expression. Best friends don’t do this to each other, it’s like declaring I’ve got a secret and then refusing to spill it. It’s not nice not to share dirty intimate details.

“I said, it’s complicated. Don’t want to talk about it,” Zayn sighs. He is unbreakable and Harry is livid.

“I bet Niall tells Louis these things,” Harry smirks. “I’ll just ask Lou.”

Zayn cracks a smile. “Lou?” he sing songs.

Harry preens. It is cute. They are cute. They are sort of best friends and everything.

“I can’t believe you two are this gross and you haven’t even slept together,” Zayn laughs rubbing his eyes and walking out of the room cursing to himself. It sounds a lot like, what am I going to do with you? Harry doesn’t think Zayn needs to worry, this isn’t going to burn out or burn him out.

At least that is his first thought.

Between a few casting calls and other quick jobs Harry needs to fill like tiresome fittings, his main focus is vogue. It’s gruelling and long with a huge set of models and during the entire shoot his mind eats away at him from the inside. It torments him with worst case scenarios. He thinks his prints are either going to come out looking terrible, or his dark gloomy mindset will work to his advantage.

Harry didn’t actively avoid a serious long term relationship but he never fell into one during the last few years because he knew the risks. The problem with a loving heart and a free spirit is that it forgets to use its head. He gets a heart stopping feeling as he stares down the lens of the camera and into the lights. He is so scared that he’ll get caught up with someone not on the same page. He has done it before, thought of the future, marriage, babies and the world to only be let down.

He doesn’t know if he would have ever left New York if it wasn’t for this being pre planned and booked ahead.

Dating someone in the industry is hard but Harry thinks actors might just be the hardest. He’s never technically dated one but he thinks of long hours, and exotic locations for months on end and he can’t see himself fitting in. Harry can’t be the person chasing  someone not willing to compromise. Harry likes serious. He isn’t in this for fun. He can’t be the hook up when you happen to be in the same city.

As Harry makes his way home he doesn’t know when he will see Louis again. He watches the Parisian streets pass by in a blur and he thinks of how badly he wants to be with him, how badly he wants to be proven wrong and how much he wishes he could trust his heart more. He just desperately doesn’t want this to be a one sided effort where he if left putting it all on the line for someone else and being the one trying to keep the sinking ship afloat.

.

He proves him wrong. He knocks on his door and Harry doesn’t even expect it. All he sees are those blue eyes and a bundle of roses and it’s a surprise in a flash.

“How did you-“ Harry says as he jumps into Louis arms before he can step through the door, almost tackling them both to the ground.

“Zayn is a terrible friend. He really shouldn’t give your address to strangers,” Louis laughs before he kisses him fervently. It’s been a long week of sad thoughts, messages and pining. Louis’ lips never tasted better. Harry’s heart thumps a steady rhythm of he came, he came.

“I practically played cupid here,” Zayn shouts from down the hall in his room. “Give me credit where credit is due.”

Maybe, Harry thinks as he rests their foreheads together and they drink each in wrapped in their embrace, maybe he was wrong about it all. He doesn’t know how this man could ever disappoint if this is how he plays.

.

Louis sleeps his jet lag off in Harry’s bed for a while and Zayn won’t stop looking at Harry with suspicious eyes like he knows. It’s all over Harry’s face and Louis actions make it clear. They are quite smitten and very shameless. Harry secretly thinks they act a little bit married. He won’t say it out loud because Zayn might have a heart attack.

Harry makes him eggs in the morning and leaves him in front of the television after showing him most of the shows are in French but if he clicks a few buttons he can get subtitles or just make up his own dialogue in his head for a few hours. Harry zips around town as fast as he can like a livewire where Caroline and the team do planning before she pats him on the back of the head and sends him home before lunch time because she can tell the reason why he is all jittery.

Louis is playing with the neighbour’s cat on the floor when he walks through the door. “Did he climb through the window?” Harry says placing a bag of fresh vegetables down on the kitchen counter and hanging his long black coat.

Louis hums in agreement as the tabby purrs into his hand and rolls to lie on his back.

“His name is Abu,” Harry says smiling and walking over to Louis. He sits down on the floor next to him in front of the television. “He belongs to the kids upstairs. They told me they named him after the monkey in Aladdin.”

“That’s sweet,” Louis smiles, his eyes lighting up like crystal reflections.

“I babysit them sometimes,” Harry explains. “And that is why Abu here likes to come looking for them around the flat while they’re at school.”

Abu uses his paw to swipe at their hands and his tail swishes as he rolls on the floor staring up at Harry and Louis. The attention must go to his head because before they know it he is standing up and walking away without a care.

“It’s sweet that you’re friends with your neighbour’s kids and their cat,” Louis compliments, as if it isn’t a normal thing to do. Harry ponders the idea.

“I’m a good babysitter,” Harry shrugs, before slapping Louis’ bare thigh. “Put some pants on, we’re going on an adventure.”

When Louis still doesn’t get off the floor Harry has to chase him with the threat of whipping his legs with the kitchen towel he grabs from the oven door. Louis is stronger and faster however, so ultimately it is Louis who ends up chasing Harry whose woollen socks make his gazelle legs slip on the hardwood floors. It ends in a tangle of limbs as Louis tries to catch him from breaking an ankle.

An hour later, after they have stopped laughing, Louis finally puts pants on and they make it out of the house intact. Louis borrows a jumper that is slightly too big in the best way, Harry puts his coat back on and Louis repetitively tells him how posh he looks in his boots, coat and bun compared to his scuffed shoes and messy hair. They fit perfectly, Harry replies.

.

The thing is, the happiness they feel can’t be contained. It’s a bit like a bottle of soda or champagne, every minute they spend together they shake it more and eventually, it has to be let out like an overflow of joy. It’s simple science or something. Love and chemicals and all that. That is what Harry reasons every time he notices Louis watching and admiring him, and not the works of art they have paid to see. Each and every time Harry looks away from the masterpieces to admire the slope of his bottom lip, the colour of his eyes or the groove of his eyelashes he catches him. He’s just gazing, in the pale light, content just watching.

And there it is. The little sparkling bubbles beneath his fingers that make him glow.

The guide keeps on talking softly and the group keeps on admiring with perfect timing the works of the greats, but Harry keeps getting a heart stopping feeling. He wonders if Louis understands anything that is being said. Their fingers are tangled together, have been since they stepped out the front door together unafraid and gloriously love drunk. He likes the groove of Louis palm and the length of his fingers. He likes the way his hand sits in front of Louis’ and guides him because it’s so terribly massive. But he still feels protected like they are sort of invincible together.

He could be correct, only time will tell. But in that moment, surrounded in the world of a collection that has lasted for centuries and endured in beauty, craft and workmanship he thinks it is possible to be everlasting.

.

Louis picks a Fleetwood Mac record out of the stacks behind the sofa and puts it on the needle. If Harry’s dancing is anything to go by he approves of the choice. He bops his head and moves his hips while he chops vegetables in the kitchen in the corner. The apartment is clean with strong white lines and beautifully restored elements but it is petite and has a cosy warm feeling that comes with being nestled in the corner of a building. It’s only hints of decay are in its older windows and door fittings, that and its eclectic inhabitants. The furniture is perfectly mismatched and the only things that go together are the three chairs at the dining room table. All the items in the room look like they have their own story to tell, like the prints on the wall were gifted by Hedi Slimane or the rug was picked up in India and the half opened paint bottles and brushes are for Harry’s lazy Sundays. It suits them well, Louis thinks.

He sits himself on the kitchen counter right next to where Harry works tirelessly both dancing and cooking. He would help, but he has been instructed very calmly and politely to not lend a hand here.

“Thunder only happens when it’s raining,” Harry sings waving a knife around and flapping his hands about in what Louis can only assume is dancing. He shakes his little hips to the beat.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Louis smiles. Harry is very romantic but stabbing someone would be a bit too Romantic, as in to die before you even get the chance to love would ruin this whole dinner thing tragically.

Harry carefully puts the knife down next to the sliced and diced vegetables as the chicken sizzles in the pan. He extends his empty hands to Louis who grabs them. Harry yanks him down off the counter so his feet rest firmly on the floor. Harry has little rhythm, he makes up for it with effort and Louis is entirely endeared, but he needs to be lead to rein it in.

Louis guides him with hands on his hips so they drift gently to the beat around in circles with the occasional spin and dip. Louis loves the smile on his face. He loves the way Harry laughs as he dips him down so deep his head almost touches the floor, all trust in Louis’ arms to hold him there as the song disappears and the room falls silent and the last chord is played. All they are left with is static and their erratic heartbeats.

Louis watches him carefully as he pulls him up and holds him to his chest, Harry’s fingers digging into his forearm. Louis leans in close to his mouth as their hearts beat quick, eyes darting between flushed cheeks, red lips and dancing around the desire to kiss. “Darling, the chicken is burning,” he says, oh so romantically.

The chords to Everywhere start spilling into the room and out of the record player. Harry cackles a laugh and throws his head back, his eyes closing into tiny slits, his mouth open wide and it is the most beautiful sound Louis’ has heard.

The streets are still bustling softly but the lights are turning on as the sun goes away for the evening. Paris is slowly falling asleep, and Harry is slowly falling in love. Louis can see it the same way he can see the lights from the Eiffel Tower if he looks carefully out the window. It is reflected back in his eyes.

The chicken is just charred but it is alright because Harry saves it with magic hands. The salad is more than perfect despite the many interruptions they encounter. It’s perfectly organic and raw, Harry brags in French Louis will never understand properly. Louis puts them onto plates as Harry grabs as many blankets as possible and lays them on the floor in a tiny haven they can call their own.

Louis begs for beer but Harry bought them wine so he’ll have to do. He pours them glasses and dims the lights so only the candles keep the room lit and they meet in the middle.

.

“I think Zayn’s gone to see Niall,” Harry says, legs crossed and picking at his food with a fork.

“Did he tell you?”

He shakes his head. “He won’t tell me a thing. He just said he was leaving this morning and he’d be back eventually,” he replies conversationally.

Louis thinks for a minute pausing between a sip of wine. “Niall is in London,” he says, “He hasn’t told me much.”

Harry frowns and finishes his bite. “I thought they would be simple, that night at the party they just seemed so in love,” Harry says with a blush. He means it. They truly did seem happy.

“It’s complicated,” Louis sighs. “Love is complicated.”

Harry smiles into his glass mulling over it. He isn’t so sure. He knows or hopes Louis is thinking the same thing and when he looks up across their divide he thinks he can sense it.

He spent the whole week trying to make this into something it wasn’t and over thinking. It isn’t complicated, this thing is too pure to be like that and he thinks he knows it now. When he looks at Louis like this he realises, deep down, he could spend his whole life loving him. It’s scary how easy that feeling comes.

Louis smiles at him softly. “I mean it’s never going to be easy. Sure, love is easy. But life isn’t,” Louis says.

He can’t help but agree, but he isn’t sure if they are talking about Louis and Harry now or if they are still on the topic of Zayn and Niall. “Louis,” he says softly and with more French flair than he supposed. He likes saying Louis’ name like that.

“I mean if they want it to work it has to be worked at. I just don’t know if Niall is willing to commit, this life is great and it’s an adventure but it can be lonely, you get used to that life. You accept it,” Louis tells Harry. He agrees and he has known that feeling.

“Harry,” Louis says, soft and serious. “I’m here. And I’m ready to be here. I’m not used to all this and these things,” he stutters, “But I’m saying you don’t have to worry because I want to make this work. I know a good thing when I see it.”

“So do I,” Harry replies quickly, his hand reaching out to grab at Louis’ own. They both smile shyly. “I’m all in,” he says, quickly adding, “If you are. I want to give us the best chance.”

It’s the start of something and the end of something else. It is the new beginning of this, of them.

Louis leans over their now empty plates and puts a hand on the back of his neck to pull him in. Harry comes easily, pouted lips and his eyes closing softly as the fall together. The kiss is different to any they have shared before. It’s more tongue and movement, it’s more passionate and they get caught up quickly in a fever heat. It is so easy to fall into with ease. Harry also falls into his chest with a lightweight feeling and an arm holding him close as they press their foreheads against each other.

He’s light and love and everything inbetween, it makes Louis’ heartbeat quicken and his veins light up. That is until Harry laughs just a little bit between a breathless kiss shared as they lie amongst the blankets.

Louis pulls back, separating their mouths but still keeping a tight hold on him as his hands begin to wander. “What?” he smiles as Harry rubs a thumb over his bottom lip seductively. Harry loops his arms around Louis’ neck and pulls them closer and parallel. It is to the point where their breaths mingle.

“It’s a lot hotter snogging you for real rather than watching you kiss some girl on a screen,” Harry whispers. “It’s a lot nicer to touch.”

“Oh,” Louis says with a devilish grin. “You like those scenes?” he asks, his fingers palming Harry’s hip and spreading out to stroke the tiniest slither of skin between his jeans and sheer shirt.

Harry whines just a tad as he closes his eyes. “Definitely my favourite,” he sighs with a nod.

Two can play that game. Louis leans in close to the shell of his ear. He kisses up his jaw before saying quietly, just for Harry so his breath is hot. “You think I’ve never seen those nude portraits?”

He’s seen the beautiful shots of Harry wearing nothing but flowers in his hair, black and white and nothing but pure art with curves, lines and shades. He stumbled upon them after they met and he had to find every single beautiful shot that Harry had graciously offered up to the world.

Harry whines high and keen as he quickly reattaches their lips in a fever hurry. It’s messy as their tongues meet and their lips become practically numb with the pace picking up. Louis’ bites Harry’s bottom lip continually because he likes the way he tenses and then relaxes. Louis is rapidly getting harder, he is pretty sure Harry is too. Just as quick Harry pulls away again, wet lips and wild eyes, “Did you like them?”

How is that even a question? Louis knows he must be teasing. “I never stop thinking about them,” Louis replies as he pushes at Harry’s shoulder and lays him on his back. Louis carefully positions himself above him as Harry does exactly what he wants. He falls like putty in his firm hands at his words, marvelling at the fact that Louis would like say that.

Harry stares up at him so open and questioning with this bright spark of innocence. Louis can see it in his eyes just how desperate, needy and raw he is. He feels it too. It makes them both hot, heady and desperate for each other. This is what they have been waiting for and they are both more than ready to give in to their desires that have plagued them since the moment they met.

Louis wants to hear him moan, he wants to break him down to his core and he wants to indulge and bring out every single side of Harry. He basically wants to get his cock inside him kind of badly and fuck Harry into tomorrow. He desperately needs to make him sweat. And Harry seems to be getting there easily.

With every brush of their lips Louis tugs his shirt up higher from his hips. He only has to fiddle with three buttons with nimble fingers before it is open and his chest is exposed. Louis smirks from above him as Harry’s chest rises and falls in a constant. “Off,” Harry says cheekily as he tugs at the hem of Louis’ own shirt.

Louis gives in and lifts it over his head. He tosses both of them to the side carefully. He doesn’t want to knock a candle over and start a blaze. Harry sighs with contentment as he lifts his hands to touch the caramel skin Louis is exposing feely for the first time like it is a marvel to see. The skin on skin feeling he gets when he leans back down and they rub together is electric. As he kisses Harry’s collar bones he can feel his warmth against his chest and he can feel every breath he takes and every time his heart skips a beat.

It’s the closest he has ever felt to him.

Harry is so keen that whilst Louis sucks marks into his milky white neck and chest he grabs at the front of Louis’ jeans with wild hands. Louis sucks quite an impressive mark into the side of his jaw with a scrape of some teeth and a tender peck, while Harry manages to get his button and zip down. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Louis.

If he grinds his crotch, pushing his hips against Harry’s he can feel how hard he is getting just from all of this teasing. Louis isn’t ashamed to acknowledge he is in the same situation. Harry probably knows that too, which is why he isn’t surprised at all when he sneaks a hand down into Louis’ pants to try and rub at him relentlessly.

“You’re shameless aren’t you,” Louis says pinching at his sides, making Harry giggle and whine at the same time as he gropes at Louis’ cock with a guilty little expression. He’s a minx. Louis pushes into his hand, rolling his hips as Harry just strokes up above the thin cotton of his pants. He watches Harry’s expression closely as he sucks his bottom lip in all concentrated and serious, feeling Louis up and stroking his length making him harder than before.

“What do you want?” Louis asks softly so he blushes.

Harry’s eyes shift quickly from looking down between them where his hand disappears up to Louis’ blue eyes. Harry blinks owlishly. “For you to take your clothes off.”

Louis can only comply with that wish. He rids himself of his jeans and pants, and assists Harry in doing the same. He carefully reveals Harry’s long legs and milky slender thighs. And his cock, which is unsurprisingly very pretty. He didn’t expect it to be anything else. It’s just as pretty as his lips.

It’s so quiet and soft as they tangle between the blankets, it’s romantic yet the constant heat makes it so undeniably passionate. Louis wants to savour the moment so badly but he has a feeling sex with Harry could never not be breathtakingly all consuming. That is why when he lays him out against the blankets and grabs a pillow for his head it is a mixture between the smallest sign of adoration and the pulsing desire of lust. They share small looks of ardour and the softest glances of love. Because he so badly wants to worship every inch of skin and bone he can touch, but he wants to consume him whole in a second with no time to spare.

Now they are both free from their clothing the pace picks up. Harry wraps a leg around Louis own pulling his naked body close and down on top of him. The leverage makes it easy for them to rub against each other, all heat and fast movement. Harry feels Louis’ thick cock rub against his with every movement of their hips together. It’s so good they quickly fall into a rhythm, and so good that they feel like they might not have the power to stop themselves.

So while Harry could stay like this forever pinned beneath Louis and his heat, he really sort of wants more. “I hid lube and a condom under the corner of that blanket,” Harry stutters out, his voice breathless and his fingers gripping into Louis forearm leaving marks and red scratches.

Louis cannot believe he is so lucky to have this boy. He is truly something else he thinks as he pulls away to scramble beneath the blankets where he pointed. Sure enough, he finds what he is looking for and returns to Harry with a knowing smirk. Harry tries his best to look entirely innocent. It’s not like Louis’ didn’t desperately hope this was going to happen as well. They are just as guilty as each other and they both know it.

Louis opens the bottle and lays the condom aside before he slicks up his fingers. Harry watches him closely and spreads his legs instinctively. Harry thinks Louis is great and all but he is taking too long with all this, Harry grabs at his wrist tugging it down while making a little of noise of complaint.

Louis likes how loud and shameless he can be. He rewards him.

He takes Harry’s spread legs and pushes them back up toward his chest with ease as his fingers begin to push at his pretty pink rim. It is cool and so wet and glides in with little resistance probably because Harry pushes into it and wiggles his arse contently.  He has no time for preamble, he really really wants just be fucked by this gorgeous man already. He isn’t complaining about the fingering though, Louis has nice fingers.

Louis adds another one quickly and Harry pushes into it again, this time it being a stretch and a burn that causes him to closes his eyes and hang his head back. Louis takes the opportunity to kiss at his neck singing his praises as he pumps his fingers in and out curling them as he moves. Harry pushes back just the way he likes and Louis bumps against his prostate just the tiniest bit. Harry gets nosy then and his toes curl against their blankets.

“God, you look beautiful,” Louis says as teeth scrape against his jaw while Harry rocks back and forth toward Louis’ slick thick fingers with little breathes. He sounds beautiful too.

“Kiss?” Harry asks sweetly, pouting his lips and scratching at Louis’ arm. He loops his own arm around his neck and pulls him tight. Louis pulls back from Harry’s neck and kisses him so his mouth turns swollen and his lips are bright red again. “Another,” Harry whines between their lips and tongues meeting.

Louis adds another finger alongside the other two stretching him and forcing Harry’s nails to dig into the flesh of his arm. Every single time Louis curls them or thrusts them in Harry feels more and more ready, to the point where he just ends up demanding it, “I’m ready, I’m ready. Please,” he begs.

Louis pulls his fingers out slowly teasing him whilst he smiles at Harry’s utter shamelessness. Harry whines and sighs at the same time and Louis tries not to laugh quietly, he’s just so sweet even with his legs in the air begging to get fucked relentlessly. He has to even hold his hands down because it keeps trying to grope at his cock and tug it toward his hole with this cheeky look. Louis carefully presses Harry’s hands against his chest and tells him to stay while he grabs the condom and puts it on.

“Are you ready?” Louis asks as he leans back down putting his arms above Harry’s head. Harry whacks him on the arm as Louis lets out a tiny bit of laughter before leaning down to kiss him again. Louis tries to casually check to make sure that Harry has plenty of blankets behind his back and head so he doesn’t get well and truly ruined from fucking on the hardwood floors. He thinks Harry notices the little fuss he makes as he tries to put his head back on a pillow, worried he is going to hurt him somehow. He blushes slightly at being treated like a proper princess.

“Hey,” Harry says, “Would you just fuck me?” not sounding so princess like at all.

Louis smiles before grabbing at Harry’s legs, specifically his lovely thighs and bending him in two. “Manners,” he says with a smirk, gently reprimanding him.

“Would you please fuck me darling?” Harry sighs as he runs his hands over Louis’ tight chest and pinches his nipple making Louis’ eyelids flutter.

“Well, since you’ve been so good,” Louis says leaning down right into the shell of Harry’s ear so only he can hear and so it lights up his whole body with something he barely knows how to handle or understand.

Louis is so careful as he pushes in for the first time, he is as slow as ever and for a few moments Harry just savours it and the way his cock pushes into his hole filling him. He lets himself burn in the feeling of his tensed arms beneath his fingers, his blue eyes watching over him for any sign of discomfort but mostly in the feeling of his beautifully thick cock stretching him in two like he has been so desperately craving for it to do.

It’s all searing tight hot heat for Louis as he slowly sinks in. It’s intense, for the both of them. And Harry let out a sigh of contentment when Louis is finally all the way inside, pushing against his walls and making every single part of his body heat up with lust. It’s tight and slicked and pulsating with heat. It is exactly what he was waiting for.

It might just be the single greatest experience of Louis’ thus far when he pulls out slowly and thrusts back in. Harry’s heels dig into his back and they both groan together at the friction.

It’s just so good. Louis’ honestly cannot believe he is actually inside him after weeks of pining and wanting. That just makes it so much better. He picks it up now that he knows Harry can handle it with his little whimpered approvals and  he repeatedly pulls out to thrust back in rhythmically, building something. He’s getting a perfect pace when Harry and all his vigour pushes back at him, just grinding his hips and clenching at the feeling of Louis’ throbbing hot inside him pushing him to the edge.

They are both so loud and should probably feel sorry for any of the neighbours. Louis’ holds onto him hard, gripping at Harry so he’ll have marks tomorrow to press on. He starts pistoning his hips harder and deeper forcing surprised cries from Harry’s tender lips. “There,” Harry cries, “There. Right there.”

Louis doesn’t stop trying to hit that spot again and again with each thrust of his cock. “Yeah,” he pants against his neck, “You like that baby?”

Harry whimpers and nods in approval biting his bottom lip between his teeth and digging his nails in. “I like it too, you’re fucking obscene. So fucking tight,” Louis tells him as he relentlessly fucks him on the floor, the blankets they lay on slipping beneath them.

“Lou,” Harry says, barely more than a whimper asking for more between a groan. He says it like a plea.

“Do you like my cock in you baby? Like me fucking you wide open? ”

Harry cries at that, desperate and loud. Louis can see his cock between them flushed red and not getting much friction at all apart from it rubbing against his stomach. Louis tries to push down further to get him off but keep up his fast thrusts. He takes his free hand and pushes his fingers against Harry’s puffy pink rim that is getting abused. He teases him with touches as his cock repeatedly pushes into him. He lets his thumb catch the rim and just slightly with a gentle push, which makes Harry’s back arch off the floor. He’s close to coming at all the relentless attention he receives.

Louis wraps the same hand around Harry’s throbbing cock and strokes him just a few times before Harry is choking out, “I need to- I’m gonna come.”

“Come baby,” Louis says, letting him know it’s alright. Harry closes his glassy eyes and comes in thick white ropes against his stomach as Louis doesn’t stop. He’s just as nosy coming as he is getting fucked and he clenches down his entire body. Louis has to throw his head back as he tries to fuck him through it, he’s victim to his own bodily desires because with Harry clamping down on him it is impossible to not fall over the edge. He comes until it feels numb consumed by Harry’s heat.

Harry slumps against the wooden floors and Louis’ collapses on top of him trying to come down from the high. When they have enough energy to move again they blow the candles out and Louis carries Harry to bed.

And when they wake it is in each other’s arms, tangled between the sheets and as happy as they could be with aching bones.

.

They spend a few more days in Paris indulged in each others presence before they escape back to London in the dead of the night. Louis leaves a few days later to start on an international promo tour for his latest release Night Changes and Harry has a life to get back to out of the city he can so easily get lost in. There isn’t a morning he isn’t there by his side in Paris or London, or a moment where it seems they aren’t falling onto the same pages. It is reassuringly strange to watch him burn eggs in his apartment or to surprise him with a full English breakfast at Harry’s own place. It’s silly and a bit strange and their tiny little bubble of a world inside this relationship seems impossibly perfect. Blowjobs included.

It’s not until he is trying to buy milk on his way home that he spots a magazine cover with a headline reading “Meet Louis Tomlinson’s New Bestie!” next to an picture they had shared on twitter. He wants to pick it up and have a scan but he knows it will look weird because the old lady behind him is now looking at the picture and back at him suspiciously. He just buys the milk. Instead he checks the internet and does what he tries to avoid doing. He searches for some information about himself.

He has got a few new followers added to his account and has noticed it since Louis followed and tweeted him a few times. He’s also got a few replies asking him if they are dating or simply just for a follow. He clicks on an article about Louis and tries to read it without cringing.

“Louis Tomlinson was photographed in Paris just last month and rumours are he was hanging out with his new pal Harry Styles. The friends shared some silly snaps of each other you can check out in the gallery below. Louis Tomlinson, who features in the highly anticipated Night Changes out later this month seems to be totally smitten with his new friendship with Harry who is the face of Burberry’s latest ad campaign and is totally one of our favourite faces to spot on and off the runway. Sources tell us the pair met between mutual friends Zayn Malik and Niall Horan at Liam Payne’s birthday party. If you love Louis just as much as we do, don’t fret! He’ll be promoting Night Changes all throughout the month before its release and we’ll be right alongside him and his rumoured (so cute!) girlfriend. But don’t worry ladies! Harry is still available, maybe Louis will help us out!”

Harry really wishes he didn’t read that. How many times does he have to say it before they stop writing articles like this and how many homoerotic jokes will he need to make on instagram before they get the picture. The number is probably infinite. Harry screenshots the page and sends it to Louis with an accompanying, “Hey pal!” because he knows he’ll find it amusing.

.

The media talks more, especially when Harry spends a week in LA and is constantly photographed in the passenger seat of Louis’ car but then again they constantly seem more occupied with any female attention Louis receives. It keeps the heat off them with little effort but it does cross Harry’s mind a few times in vague annoyance.

It’s a bit unconventional but it isn’t some giant tragic situation. Like Louis repeats a million times, once this release and promo are done they are in the clear. And until then it’s nothing but unsubstantial talk.

They are always grossly romantic so they have to keep far away from other people for everyone's sanity. They stay in Louis’ house by the beach where Harry can lie in the sand and watch him try to surf. He likes the beaches with Louis in California, and cuddling him tight when it gets cold in London but then he liked the adventure of hotels in New York and the quaint life they lived for a few moments in Paris where Harry could pretend the apartment was theirs and play house for a day or two. He likes them all and it hits him in the early hours of the morning.

Before they knew what they were or what these new strange feelings were Harry already labelled it into a box of a love that would never be grounded. He feared for a relationship with no solid foundation. As he watches Louis’ eyelashes move against his cheeks illuminated by the morning lights through the curtains, he knows he was wrong. They are the solid ground. Their home is within this and that is a constant better than time, space or location.

Louis is the same here as he is anywhere, and he is always never changing within Harry’s heart. Harry knows he is ridiculously in love.

When he wakes Harry is watching him with gentle careful eyes as the pale sunshine covers their faces and floods the room.

“Hi,” Louis says his voice cracking and his baby blues opening to catch him. Harry leans down to kiss at his shoulder sweetly. Louis says he loves how he is all soft and romantic like that in the morning. It must be true because he puts a hand into Harry’s hair to play with his tangled curls. “You were watching me weren’t you?”

Harry presses his face against his shoulder and smiles, he knows Louis can feel it. He’s just so happy it’s so sappy and silly. All the thinking he did this morning made him think of impossible things. Oh, how he would love to spend forever by his side and fill it with a family of their own.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. Louis likes his answer and scratches his scalp as if Harry was a cat and he was petting him softly. “Lou, do you prefer cats or dogs?” Harry asks as he pulls his face away from hiding and cuddles into him closer. Louis pulls the sheets up against them as the windows are still a little open and the day isn’t that warm yet.

“I like both,” he starts, “I’d like a big dog though.” Harry hums in agreement before Louis adds, “Like a German Shepherd.”

“I like them both,” Harry suggests. “Maybe cats a little more,” he adds after a moment.

Harry thinks he is talking all silly and thinking all fantastical in his head before Louis says, as he holds him and smiles softly, “We could just have both.”

His heart skips a beat and his mouth goes a little dry. “We could,” Harry says softly. “Maybe not a German Sheperd, they’re quite big.”

They could have a middle sized dog, one that is good with kids and won’t jump the fences. But then, they could live anywhere they liked, they could have all the room in the world for as many pets, kids and cats as they wanted.

Louis agrees with a nod. “They need a lot of room.”

“We could have a big backyard,” Harry smiles. Louis smiles back just as wide before he leans in to kiss his cheeks whispering tenderly, “Lots of room. Space to run around.”

Something flutters deep inside Harry as he thinks of it all. He’s always been like this even since he was young. He’s dreamed of the day he’ll settle down and buy a cat, find a house with a big yard and then pop out a few dozen babies to fill it with life and laughter. He knows he’s young and everything but it is what he wants. He can’t wait for the day, even if that time isn’t right now, it seems like he might have found the face to fill in the blank spot in his dreams of the future.

He doesn’t want to shatter the illusion but he needs to know so he asks. “How many kids do you want?”

He asks it so it is open ended.

With a finger tracing against Harry’s cheek Louis smiles back a tender, “Oh loads. We could have a football team of them. I’ll give you as many as you’d like.”

Louis answers in reference to them.

“A dozen at least,” Harry smiles, with a tiny wink. He and his heart can’t help but agree, it doesn’t matter, even as young as they are he can picture it all falling together like a storybook in his head.

.

Louis surprises Harry with a trip to Monte Carlo to celebrate four months since the night they met. He knows how Harry likes exploring (and how he adores using fancy old cameras) and how he adores new places and he tells him Monaco was the easiest choice in the world. They come separately and Harry arrives knowing Louis is up in their room waiting for him. He can’t run through the lobby fast enough and the lift just takes that little bit too long. The card can’t slide through the lock before Louis is swinging the door open and Harry is dropping his bags.

“Hi,” he squeaks out as Louis grabs him and hauls him into a kiss so tight Harry’s feet leave the ground and his lungs are squeezed up. He clashes their mouths together and Harry can’t help but giggle. It hasn’t even been that long since they’ve seen each other, but every hour does feel like a year and the moment they see each other again always feels like a rebirth. “I missed you,” Harry laughs as Louis tries to pick him up and spin them around stumbling into the room.

Harry screams a little between the laugher in fear of getting dropped or bitten as Louis munches on his neck happily as they move through the room. “Louis,” he giggles, “Put me down.”

“Never. Missed you too much,” Louis replies holding on tight. Harry’s booted feet kick at his back before Louis politely drops him off on the bed. Harry’s fall is settled by a mountain of pillows and throws.

“Was that supposed to be romantic or something?” Harry asks crossing his arms and faking annoyance. Louis smiles as he bends down to grab at Harry’s feet, he carefully slips his shoes off and throws them on the floor. “Are you impressed?” Louis asks nice and sweet.

“By what? Your super human strength?” Harry ponders. “I always am,” he swoons. Louis laughs before he pounces onto him, tackling Harry back onto the bed and wrapping his arms around his neck.

Oh, it’s so lovely to have him back. He never wants to leave this room. Harry thinks as long as they keep getting room service they could survive alone here together forever. Louis wouldn’t even need to tie him to the bed, he’d stay willingly forever. But he could tie him up if he wanted. Harry bites Louis’ bottom lip and ponders how incredibly kinky his thoughts have just become. He either gets hot and bothered thinking of Louis being a dad and lifelong monogamy or from being tied and held hostage in hotel rooms. Harry has polar opposite tastes but there is no shame in that he thinks as he kisses him back giddy with a wild imagination.

Louis pulls their mouths apart and separates them for a moment, their faces still close and with just a little space to admire the face they have been missing for days now. Harry’s stomach instantly bubbles with happy thoughts before he blurts out all romantic, “Can I give you a blowjob?”

Louis eyes almost double in size and the hand gripping Harry’s soft hip clenching before he nods quickly. “Yeah,” he smiles, “I mean, if you’d like.”

Harry rolls his eyes. He really wants to suck him off, Louis doesn’t need to be polite about it. He missed him. He flips them over and climbs out from underneath Louis’ grip. He isn’t bragging but he is pretty good at this, it takes him less than ten seconds to get Louis naked from the waist down and helplessly ready for him. He’s that good.

He licks his lips as he grabs at Louis’ cock, just stroking it gently for a bit to say hello and that he missed it. Because, he did. “God, Harry,” Louis whines as he throws his arm over his face and closes his eyes.

Harry might have said his thoughts aloud.

Louis’ other arm reaches out to brush softly against Harry’s lips, his fingers just padding against them. Harry, as sweet as ever, gives them a soft peck. He missed those fingers too.

“You’re going to kill me,” Louis says as he brushes Harry’s long hair out of his eyes. Harry tries to tuck it behind his ear as best as he can. He would tie it up but he has misplaced his elastic hair ties that normally live on his wrist. Louis smirks watching him, closing his eyes again and flopping back on the bed accepting his fate.

When Harry deems him ready and he thinks it is appropriate to stop teasing him with rubbing him off, he lowers his mouth. He wraps his lips around the head giving it a tender suck before gently lowering himself deep and slow wrapping his lips around the length of Louis’ cock. It’s the first time he has ever gotten his dick in his mouth properly and he is going to brag. Harry pushes himself, running his tongue and giving a little hum as he takes Louis’ as far as he can and holds him there.

Louis is trying his best not to move but his hips jump just a little, Harry doesn’t blame him, but he stutters and strokes his hands up his thighs and back down before pulling off. “Fuck,” Louis croaks.

Harry doesn’t give him any breathing space as he takes him in his hand and licks up and down his cock. The change in tactics surprises Louis and Harry takes the chance to take him back on. He bobs his head up and down, hollowing his cheeks and fanning his eyelashes with a flutter. He knows Louis is watching when he swears again and threads a hand through his hair. It’s falling all over his face and a part of Harry regrets not finding something to tie it up in a bun with. Louis’ fingers push it back to show him off in all his glory. “Oh baby,” he whines as Harry sucks him as deep as he can, his mouth connecting with his hand and pushing a little further. “You’re doing so fucking good.”

Harry doesn’t know how Louis knows exactly what he likes without having to spell it out. Harry squeezes his watering eyes shut. There is nothing like praise while you’ve got a cock in your mouth. Louis tells him when he thinks he is about to come and Harry pulls off with a pop. He must look a sight, probably has red cheeks, messy hair and spit on his chin but he whines quickly asking, “On my face?”

Harry feels like with anyone else that would be way too forward. Louis just nods along like Harry read his mind and does it. Harry leans his face back and Louis comes all over it with a rush. Just like Harry  wanted. It confirms that they were either made for each other or have some sort of weird telepathy thing going on. That is what Harry’s mind scrambles to as he blinks his eyes open and licks at the come around his mouth watching Louis.

He just swears again and flops back into the pillows, one arm sneaking out to grab at Harry and pull him up and down with him so they land together. “You are truly something else.”

.

Louis watches Harry put on leather pants and this beautiful white ruffled blouse while he smokes on the balcony, the sea air blowing against his face and the dusk sky surrounding him. He tries not to laugh too loudly beneath his breath as Harry struggles to get his tight pants on. He wriggles his hips and jumps around like he doesn’t know he is being watched. Louis gazes through the half opened double doors and the window panes as he leans on the railings. He knows he is a fool just from how sweet he finds everything and anything he does. It’s a harsh reality to be in such a beautiful isolated paradise filled with treasures and adventures, and only want one thing. He snubs the cigarette before the wind that wraps around his body blows it out.

“Are you ready?”

Harry stops looking in the mirror and grins at him. “Yeah,” he replies just a tiny bit breathless.

Louis doesn’t think the five star restaurant they are going to allows leather pants for normal patrons in their dress code. He doesn’t care, and he’ll make sure they get away with it. He could never make Harry be anything other than himself. The world is just going to have to get used to that.

Louis does the button up on his jacket and takes Harry hand in hand. He knows they should be quieter about this and his team has advised him too many times now for him to not understand the risks. But in Louis’ own eyes the risks don’t look like anything they paint them out to be. Especially when compared the blinding joy he gets from being with Harry. That’s why he kisses him in the lift and doesn’t drop his hand.

They eat all sorts of seafoods, some they like (and Harry steals from Louis’ plate) and others they don’t (and Louis’ face screws up) before they go to the casino.

Harry is clueless and terrible at almost everything they try. His only hope being that he has Louis to guide him. Everything Harry loses, he wins back eventually and Harry is there rewarding him with a kiss. Harry blames it on how much he drinks and partially on how good Louis looks all powerful with chips in his hands and a glass in another but eventually he starts whispering sums of money and the promise of sexual favours in Louis’ ear if he pays up.

And that is how he ends up owing him a personal lap dance and strip show.

.

Harry needs music and since they aren’t at home he doesn’t have his record player which is his safety net. His sexy safety net. There is something extremely cool about it. His iphone will have to do. It’s not as aesthetically pleasing but with the gold fittings, the chandeliers and their penthouse suite Harry thinks he will be able to channel something else to put him in the zone. He looks at himself twice in the bathroom mirror before opening the door. He’s just got on what he was wearing before sans the leather pants. He walks out wearing his white shirt half unbuttoned, a pair of silky black small briefs with lacy edges and a dab of lipstick run along his bottom lip. He feels floaty and buzzed and so incredibly eager.

He tries to avoid Louis’ eye contact but he knows he is sitting in the armchair to the side of the room. Harry slinks over to the table, with soft feet against the hardwood, he places his phone and presses one finger on the play button. Lana Del Rey starts singing and Harry turns to face Louis slowly, curling his body and bending like a bow.

He’s still fully dressed in his suit and has a glass in his hand. He sips the liquor, his eyes never dropping from Harry, and he places the empty glass on the floor with a noise that echoes harshly against the music. Each of his movements is calculated. Harry swallows and moves his hand to the buttons on his shirt his hips swaying. His heart beats erratically in his chest, because god he is getting hot. Louis is killing him, he is supposed to be the one doing that here, he is supposed to be in control.

Harry gently rocks his hips to the beat and closes his eyes, dropping his head to one side. His fingers pop the buttons as Lana sings and Harry mouths along, “You’ve got that medicine I need-”

When his chest is exposed and he can run his hands over it, he turns around and away from Louis, Harry lifts his arms above his head and drags one hand down the other arm with delicate fingers. He runs it slowly past his elbow and back up. He drops them into his hair, tugging it to the side before he toys with the edges of his shirt. He plays it like a scene only he isn’t acting up for a camera or lense like normal, but for the man he owes it to. The man he loves. When he thinks it’s time to get rid of the shirt he turns his head to the side, finally opening his eyes again and watching Louis’ over his shoulder, their eyes making contact.

He looks pained. And that is much better than before. Harry has a slither of control.

He drops the shirt from his shoulders so they are exposed, only just, and he carefully pulls is down, down, down until it drops to the ground with a silent sound. Lana keeps crooning to the dark and empty echoing room, “And I’m singing fuck yeah give it to me this heaven what I truly want-”

Now Harry is just standing there is nothing but his favourite panties. He turns slowly, his fingers trailing his collar bones and down past his nipples. He drags his fingertips across his skin past his butterfly tattoo and the tattoos on his hips until he reaches the edge of his black undergarments. Louis’ hand visibly clenches against the black of the leather seat, gripping it tight. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry.

Harry carefully steps forward one leg in front of the other, slinking toward him and moving his hips seductively. His arms never stop toying with the hem of his undergarments. He owes him a lap dance, so that is what he’ll get. He did him good tonight.

Louis’s eyes are wild and his hands reach out for Harry, who shakes his finger and turns back around with grace and ease. He stands with his arse right at his eye level, tempting him, teasing him and mocking Louis for what he can’t have. He bends down, slow and dragging it on so he bends in half, showing off his flexibility but flaunting one of his best assets right in front of Louis’ face, stretched and tempting to touch. His wiggles his ass just a bit before he pulls himself up.

Harry pushes backward so he is closer, slowly swerving his hips and rocking back and forth. He knows he looks good and he can feel Louis’ breath on his lower half as he leans back, slowly until he sits himself right into his lap chest to back. Louis’ hands creep up again.

“Ah,” Harry frowns with a noise of displeasure. “No hands.”

Louis’ obviously lacks the control Harry has, Harry doesn’t even need his hands to be tied up to withhold, Louis’ on the other hand doesn’t seem to like being denied. With Louis’ hands firmly back on the armrests Harry leans his head back so it rests against his shoulder. His hair is long and wild, it falls against his face. He reaches up to thread his fingers through Louis’ own hair and against his jaw, while his hot breath flushes against his neck and he grinds his hips back against his crotch, his silk panties making it an easy slide. He can feel Louis’ getting hard, so he let’s go of his face and turns over, climbing up onto his knees legs parted between Louis’ own.

Harry tugs at Louis’ shirt and undoes a few buttons while he just sits there taking it. He keeps on singing under his breath, “If I get a little prettier can I be your baby?” and grinds down repeatedly. The friction and the motion keeps driving him crazy, Louis’ is a hard constant underneath his hips and he keeps making these deep sounds like it is driving him wild. When Harry finally gets his shirt open he leans up to kiss at his lips, surprising him and pushing their chests together. It’s a frantic emotion and Harry’s walls break. He rakes his nails down Louis’ chest, leaving vibrant little lines of pleasure.

“Alright,” Harry whispers, “You can touch.”

“Fuck,” Louis says, as his hands leave their firm grip on the seat and go straight to gropping at him. He squeezes his arse, palms at his pants, and brushes against his hips and thighs in a matter of seconds. He is frantic from being denied. Harry reattaches their lips and moans into his mouth like it is the best feeling in the world and it’s like home to have Louis’ hands on him again. It’s where they always belong.

Louis’ fingers dip below the waistband on his panties, brushing against his cheeks, and Harry runs sharp fingernails down his chest again, leaving more trails in their wake. “I wanna-,” Harry pants against his neck catching his breath. “I want to ride you,” he says, as he bites down and licks.

Louis’ wastes no time wrapping his strong arms around Harry’s middle, hitching his legs around his waist and standing them up. He carries them across the room, through the open double doors and into the bedroom with the double bed and the balcony he stood at before. Lana Del Rey keep crackling on in the distance, long forgotten now and crooning to herself.

Louis throws him onto the bed, like he had earlier in the day, but now with so much more dark intent. Harry’s first move is to rid himself of his underwear whilst Louis’ strips, Harry is frantic and gropes at the side table where he knows they must have hidden lube. He grabs it not before Louis climbs onto him naked and attacking at his chest and neck mumbling words of praise.

Harry loses his train of thought and he drops it onto the bed moaning and falling into the sheets. Louis makes expert quick work of flipping him over onto his stomach and getting lube all over his fingers. Harry is on the same page and uses his own hands to spread his cheeks wide, panting out a small few whispers of, “Please. Hurry.”

It doesn’t take long for Harry to get what he desires as Louis’ fingers him with no preamble or fuss. It isn’t the type of romantic or sensual fingering he’d normally use, it’s fast and with one purpose, to get him open and ready. It makes it that much hotter, the fact that Louis’ doesn’t care and he just does what Harry wants and what he has asked for. He’s two fingers in when Harry is grabbing at his hand pushing him further and demanding another as fast as possible. It’s tight and it’s slightly uncomfortable but he wants it.

When Harry deems himself done he pants out, “Ready,” and Louis flips him over onto his back. They are both red cheeked, blind with lust filled pleasure.

Harry pushes at Louis’ shoulders so he goes down and lays flat on his back and Harry takes control. He wants to ride him, so he will. It’s his favourite thing to do, get onto someone and fall apart above them. He likes having someone watch, he wants Louis watching. He wants that more than anything. He wants it now.

He sits on his thighs and arches his back his back beautifully using his flexibility gained from endless hours of yoga to his advantage. Harry wastes no time from then on, reaching back to grab at Louis’ cock from where it’s hard and waiting for him. He impatiently seats himself on it in one fluid motion, making it as quick as possible and forcing the air out of both of them. Harry almost gasps as his mouth gapes open but no sound comes out but a breathless whine.

Louis is thick and stretching him as wide as possible just like he remembers and missed, to the point when good verges on bittersweet. And he is all over Harry, in the air, and under his hands and inside him. Louis’ palms come to rest on Harry’s hips pulling him forward and down, so he falls further onto Louis’ chest and his mind sparks up with violent colours and visions as their chests brush and their lips connect.

Harry is as impatient as always and has no time for these romantic niceties. He just really wants to get fucked good. That is all the romance he needs right now. He rolls his hips quick and sudden as he breaks away, panting against Louis’ cheek with a shallow moan. As Harry finds a rhythm he can’t help but claw at Louis’ chest, Louis leaves his own bruises into Harry’s soft hips in finger shaped reminders. He pushes back and forward working Louis’ cock inside himself, pumping it and grinding against it to satisfy his bad desire. It’s thick and perfect just like he remembered it to be, but this angle makes it better than ever.

“Fuck,” Harry practically shouts, “Fuck, Louis. Please,” he moans again as he shudders and hits the perfect spot where he has been aiming. “There.”

Every time Harry gets that bit louder he can feel Louis become more affected, to spurs him on and gives him the exact audience he craves. Fuck, he doesn’t care if the whole hotel can hear him. Let them listen, it’s strangely invigorating.

Harry hums as he works his hips and thighs tirelessly, Louis’ barely doing any work at all other than holding him, keeping him steady and letting Harry’s destroy himself in every way.

“It’s good,” Harry moans for the twentieth time.

“Yeah?” Louis smirks, breathless and smug but so affected.

“Love riding you,” Harry replies squeezing his eyes shut and clenching down. He doesn’t want to come before Louis. Every instinct telling him to chase his own desire is shut down, he needs Louis to feel good, he needs him to be rewarded for all he did tonight. “You’re so good, so thick,” Harry whimpers as he pulls his hips up and drops down, thrusting Louis’ fucking monster cock inside of him. He almost never wants this to end. He always wants it inside him.

His face is half covered in flopping hair and Louis lets go of his grip on his hip to brush it away. “Let me see your face,” he says, clearing Harry’s eyes and giving the hair a small tug.

Harry almost loses it, throwing his head back and his hips stuttering. The repetitive movements falter and he makes a noise akin to pain or a sob.

“Don’t stop,” Louis warns. He flexes his own muscles  and Harry is jostled upwards almost tumbling. “Come on baby,” he says, grabbing at his hips harshly again. “I’m almost there.”

That is the push Harry needs, it reminds him of what he is doing despite all the colours and fireworks dancing behind his eyelids and beneath his fingertips. It doesn’t matter, none of it does, until Louis’ comes. He doesn’t stop whining and moaning, as he lifts his hips and drops them as forcefully as he can, riding Louis’ with all the intention of getting him off.

It takes Harry scratching his blunt fingernails, his favourite pastel pink, down his chest and clenching against him suddenly for Louis to come. Louis falls back flat against the pillows and his grips on Harry’s hips tighten to the point where they almost hurt (driving Harry wild again) as he lets go completely.

It’s a beautiful sight, and combined with his grip and the feeling of Louis coming beneath him and inside of him Harry can’t help but beg desperately with a sob escaping his mouth. “Please,” he says falling against Louis’ chest and crashing them into each other, “Can I come?”

Harry knows Louis must be the one because even though he is completely and utterly spent falling down the deep end he is there listening and ready to immediately to push Harry over the edge in reward. He lends him a quick hand and pulls him off against his chest until Harry is coming, sticky and breathless all over them both.

It hits Harry so hard and quick, he feels as if he loses his mind and sinks away with the current. The only thing that keeps him here and anchored is Louis.

Louis on his skin, Louis beneath his hands, and Louis pulling back just when he needs him. Louis is warmth and tender soft touches and he bundles Harry against his chest.

“Harry?” he says kindly, stroking Harry’s arms and rubbing small circular patterns. “You’re so wonderful, you were so good.”

Harry giggles soft and warm with a smile.

“Hi,” Louis replies, as Harry finally opens his eyes again.

“That was so much fun,” he laughs. Louis heart finally stops pounding against his chest consumed with angst and worry. Harry laughs again, reaching down to connect their lips to brush them only slightly. “That was amazing.”

Louis isn’t going to disagree, it was fucking amazing. “Yeah,” he laughs, joining in. “You’re quite talented.”

Harry smiles coquettishly and hums in agreement. “Let’s go again,” he almost growls, trying to flip them and digging his nails back into Louis.

“Shower,” Louis whines, because he is disgusting and Harry looks like a walking just been fucked nightmare.

Harry sinks a bite into his shoulder and says while he laps it up, “I’m fine with shower sex.”

It turns out they are both more than okay with shower sex, and activities in the giant bath tub. And then back full circle to the bed. The weekend is spent just the way Harry likes it, with zero clothes involved at all. His suitcase full of pre season releases and sample sizes remains left untouched. His wish of never leaving the hotel room and being held captive to his own sexual desires and those of his companion turn out to be true and better than he expected. The room service menus serve them well.

.

“Stop sulking on the couch,” Zayn says.

“Yeah,” Niall echoes from behind him, arms crossed and for some reason standing in Harry’s lounge.

Harry narrows his eyes, squinting at the two of them and the pair they make mirroring each others movements. “Do you want to tell me what is going on here?” Harry inquires, not moving from his place lying on the couch and his eyes darting between them.

“No,” Zayn replies.

“Then,” Harry starts, “I’m not moving either.” He grabs at his blankets and covers his head, hiding beneath the covers. “Bye,” he muffles.

“Does he realise he has a bed?” Niall mumbles. “He doesn’t have to always sleep on the sofa.”

“It’s about dramatics,” Zayn replies, talking as if Harry isn’t in the room and can’t hear everything they are saying from his spot beneath his blankets. “I can hear you,” he says to his pillow.

“Then you can also hear this. The couch is bad for your back. He’s shooting on location he hasn’t gone to war,” Zayn lectures, sounding way too much like he is Harry’s mother. It’s gotten to that weird point in their friendship where they parent each other. Harry sort of wishes he could see Niall’s face now to see if he is admiring Zayn’s parental maternal skills or is ignorant to them.

Harry is just having a bad week. He’s allowed that. He’s felt a bit off the last couple of days and he knows it sounds clingy and stupid, but he thinks he is just feeling this way because he misses Louis too much. It could be separation anxiety that is making him so icky. He rolls over onto his tummy and stays cocooned on his sofa. He hates how much he misses him every single day.

When they left Monaco Louis tagged along on Harry’s trip to Spain where they continued to be annoyingly clingy and all that. They felt like they had gotten over a bump, or at least a milestone. Four was a good number. But also because Louis kept reminding him he was off to Vancouver for a whole month as soon as the week ended and Monday rolled back around. Their sunshine filled weekend extended into a day or two shooting in Spain (Harry standing in the sun for hours, Louis sitting on a directors chair sipping iced tea) and then lazy days in Harry’s London flat. They played house again and Harry learnt Louis is terrible at leaving his shoes in the hallway and for losing socks in bed during the night. And then complaining when he can’t find them. It was the best kind of adventure.

But then he was gone again and the only thing on Harry’s to do list was the normally exciting Spring/Summer June collections at Fashion Week. He smiles slightly, he’s known Louis for a full rotation now. All of the things before have now faded away into nothing, but they are still here. Like a classic piece they don’t have a timestamp. But even that and the thought of Burberry won’t get him out of this funk.

Eventually Zayn and Niall leave after Harry convinces them he is fine and he promises he’ll put clothes on, and eventually he has to go to work and not be such a sad excuse of a human being.

When he calls Louis he gets to listen to him talk on and on about Zombies for hours and he loves it. Louis probably spoils the entire plot for the film and technically he shouldn’t share this much private information with anyone outside of the cast, but Harry is special and so he likes the way he talks about saving the day and getting to pretend to fly a helicopter. He’s cute.

“That’s real cute babe,” Harry yawns, it’s late and tomorrow is the big day and he should be sleeping but he loves the sound of his voice. Plus, his nerves are all over the place.

“Yeah, fake blood and brains is cute,” Louis replies, teasing him gently. “I wish I could be there for tomorrow,” he sighs suddenly serious.

Harry kind of wishes he could be there too. He’s opening Burberry Prorsum tomorrow and he has Alexander McQueen the day after. And even now, talking to Louis and hearing his voice, he still feels off. He tugs his blankets tighter.

“What is the schedule for Paris?” Louis asks, “I might be able to make it, I’ll fly in and out on Sunday. I’ll sort it.”

“Lanvin in the morning,” Harry replies knowing the schedule straight off his head. “And Saint Laurent in the evening. It’ll be hectic. Don’t bother. If you come Friday I’m walking Givenchy,” Harry muffles into the phone, he wishes he could see Louis right now and give him a look. The look that says something sexy is being implied here.

“I’ll be hardly wearing anything,” he finishes after a brief pause when Louis doesn’t take the hint. Louis would like the Givenchy show best.

He knows Louis is smirking when he says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

It warms Harry’s heart better than his fluffy blankets can. “I miss you,” he says feeling both incredibly lonely and longing, but happy.

“I miss you too,” Louis replies, just as tender. “Are you feeling better?”

He feels tired and off, not anything crazy or dramatic (his exact words when he had casually mentioned to Louis he was off and Louis had freaked) it’s nothing cuddles don’t fix. He thinks it’s just the blues and Louis withdrawal.

“It’s all better,” he says softly. “Just miss you that’s all.”

Harry is hand delivered a massive bouquet of roses of different rainbow colours with a handwritten note to his fitting room. They smell divine and surprise him in the best way. His eyebrows are being filled and someone is prodding at his side with a safety pin as he reads the message, “Make me proud xx.”

He hopes he does.

.

It’s two and a half weeks later in the final day in Milan that Harry finds himself staring down a toilet bowl. He wakes up fine, just a little unsettled with an uncomfortable feeling beneath his tongue that only gets worse as he moves about. One second he is staring at a pair of loafers, the next he is sprinting toward the only bathrooms he can find. While he contemplates slowly sinking into the tiled floors and disappearing so he doesn’t have to stand back up someone taps lightly on the door.

“Babe,” Zayn says softly as he taps his fingers. He must have seen Harry from his spot fitting his own shoes. “You want to open this up Harry?” he asks soft and timid like he might spook him. The room is bustling with models shouting in Italian or French and he knows the only way he’ll be able to speak to Zayn is if he sneaks in here too.

Harry blinks his eyes twice, trying not to smudge his eyeliner as he leans over and flips the lock on the door. Zayn pushes it open and his worried eyes meet Harry’s, all concerned mum and looking ridiculous with no shirt on.

“I normally don’t get nervous,” Harry says, trying desperately to come up with an excuse or reason. He does get nerves but never nerves that manifest like this. He thinks it could be a mixture, he’s only seen Louis for a few hours when he visited in Paris last Friday and even then it was quick pecks in the back of a taxi and barely getting to see him watch from the sidelines. it’s just- everything has been off.

He could’ve just eaten something bad.

Zayn gives him a worried look and tries to press a hand against his forehead checking his temperature but also being mindful of his carefully filled eyebrows and make up. He frowns at him slightly. “I just don’t want anyone thinking you aren’t alright,” he mumbles, “If you know what I mean.”

Harry frowns with a pout and stands up with wobbling legs. He feels slightly better. “I’m not making myself throw up if that is what you’re implying.”

“I know that,” Zayn says grabbing Harry some tissues to wipe his mouth and promising him he has mouthwash in his bag he can borrow. He keeps an arm around his shoulders until Harry stops looking so pale and drinks some water. Harry doesn’t get scolded too much for running himself late but that doesn’t stop the funny feeling stirring in his stomach and head.

.

It’s when he is sick the next morning in their hotel room that he stares at himself in the mirror for a good twenty minutes admitting it to himself. He’s not stupid. If anyone knows the signs, it’s Harry. And he isn’t going to lie to himself.

He’s barely had an appetite and even the smell of food has been setting him off into nausea for half of the day. Zayn also said he has been slightly more irritable than normal, which could be due to lack of sleep, but Harry thinks it could be the fact that everything just so happens to be setting him off lately. It seems like the timing fits perfectly too, they were in Monte Carlo about six weeks ago. The only thing is he doesn’t know how it happened. But then he was drunk for most of that weekend.

He stares at his pale face in the mirror for a long while.

Before the sudden feeling of helplessness or fear floods in, Harry’s knee jerk reaction is to take is two palms and place them across his stomach. He spreads his fingers wide and takes a shallow breath, just stopping for a second and waiting. It’s stupid, but even as he lets out a little sob of shock and lets his mind panic and flurry he doesn’t move his hands. He keeps holding onto his belly above his shirt like a lifeline like if he grips hard enough it will all be alright and this won’t fall apart and they will both be safe here in this bathroom.

He’s most probably, most likely, quite possibly pregnant.

It’s the scariest thought in the world, but the most beautiful. He could right that second be holding new life under his palms, a piece of him growing- a piece of Louis growing. Harry’s eyes well up again and his bottom lip trembles with this weird flood of feeling. He needs to sit down, and he needs to call Louis. He needs to get a pregnancy test and he needs to talk to his mum or his sister. He wonders what the time is in Vancouver and if Louis is awake. He wipes his eyes as he wonders where Zayn is because he needs someone to hold his hand and tell him it will be okay.

As if right on time there is a tap at the door. “Harry,” he says as the doorknob turns.

Harry looks down at his hands and decides to not remove them. He’s worried and upset, he wants Louis and maybe that is the closest he’ll get to touching him right now.

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asks softly, walking into the room. “You’ve been in here awhile-”

“I’m pregnant,” Harry bubblers out. He knows it’s all watery but he smiles at the end all stupid before adding, “I mean- I might be pregnant. I think I am.”

Harry didn’t really have any expectation for a reaction out of Zayn, he has never really pondered what he would look like in this moment standing in a hotel bathroom in Milan while Harry announces he might be pregnant. But there are a million things running around in Harry’s mind right at that second and thousands of emotions flooding his veins that he doesn’t have time to worry or think about anyone but himself. And his possible baby.

There are so many things that are warm and bright in this moment but so many things that scare him and cloud his mind. Zayn is talking fast and touching Harry’s shoulder and forcing him to sit down. “Do you want me to go buy you a test?” he asks more calm than Harry will ever be.

He nods. “Maybe a few. Just to be sure.”

“Are you going to be alright if I leave you?”

Harry nods again, his nose sniffling and his hands still holding onto his belly as he folds in on himself. When Zayn doesn’t move but just keeps on standing there staring at him worried Harry has to say a soft, “I’ll be alright. Please.”

He nods and cards a hand through Harry’s hair before saying softly, “Niall is standing outside that open door and he’ll stay here.”

Harry instantly stops feeling sorry and panicked, between his wobbling bottom lip he stares up at Zayn shooting him a glare through furrowed brows. Firstly, because he was mostly definitely not informed Niall had been visiting and secondly, because now Louis’ friend knows.

“You just blurted it out,” Zayn says with a sorry look on his face, “I couldn’t stop you.”

Zayn leaves the room and there is some quiet murmuring outside the door that Harry tries not to listen to. He distracts himself from eavesdropping by thinking of the different ways this could go. He could be wrong. He could be right. He could be pregnant and Louis could love it. Or he could-

Harry starts biting the corner of his nail, chipping his black nailpolish. His mind can run as many circles as he likes but his heart can’t. He knows it will be alright. He knows himself, he knows Louis. That should be comfort enough.

Niall steps into the room and looks awkward as hell. Probably because Harry is sitting on the bathroom floor with red cheeks and eyes and he has been lumped into babysitting him for the next ten minutes or so. Harry doesn’t blame his apprehension.

“I won’t tell Louis,” he says stepping forward and crouching down so he can sit next to Harry against the bathtub and stretch his legs out.

“Thanks,” Harry replies, genuinely appreciative with a smile.

They sit in silence for a while Harry just listening to his heartbeat thump in his ears until he asks softly, “Do you think it will all turn out alright? Do you think it will be okay?”

It will change everything. In both a way that terrifies you and thrills you. Harry could have everything he’s ever wanted or it could slip through his fingers.

“Yeah,” Niall replies confidently.

Harry decides to attack him while he is weak. “Are you dating Zayn?” he asks trying his best to look desperate, vulnerable and sweet. The lethal combination to get the truth out.

“Yeah, I am,” Niall replies after a moment.

“Good,” Harry smiles back, grinning from ear to ear with a look that says he already guessed it. “Look after him,” he adds trying to do what he imagines Zayn would do in this situation reversed.

“Just like you’ll look after Tommo for me,” Niall replies with a wink and nudging Harry’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Harry replies softly. He’ll try his best.

Niall tries his best to distract him by asking him all sorts of silly questions and making mindless chatter. Harry replies to the best of his ability but his mind isn’t there, it’s off wandering, stressing and planning for different series of events that are now out of his hands. His palm rests over his stomach just resting softly and his fingers occasionally drumming.

He could hide it for a while, keep working but eventually he’ll show. But he doesn’t think a baby bump will be next years new token trend. He’ll go back to London or maybe, he’ll just go back home. His mum will make this all alright. He could just hide forever.

Eventually Zayn comes back with the goods and they all wait patiently, Harry cuddled between them after he pees on the sticks and they eat the chocolate Zayn purchased for them because they need it. Harry keeps breaking a piece off and then changing his mind. He feels worse now than before. The time seems to take forever moving at a glacial pace because while Harry stares waiting for the five minutes to hurry up his phone vibrates on the tiled floor with a message from Louis himself.

Harry adverts his eyes and squeezes them shut until Zayn’s timer tells them it’s alright  to check. With shaking careful hands Harry picks them up one by one reading the same message again and again as clear as day. He’s pregnant.

.

Harry’s mum tells this terrible story about Harry and his baby dolls from when he was five, how he cried in the supermarket until she put baby food in the trolley. He took it very seriously, she always smiles, stating he became so attached because all his other friends had younger siblings but he was the youngest with no one to show off. He cuddled them constantly and pushed them in a pram through the mall. When Harry was a preteen he fed the neighbours cat and always walked their kids home from school, hand in hand to make sure the littlest ones crossed the road at the designated crossings safely. Harry was good at caring and he was good at loving, he babysat for almost everyone in their street and earnt a good fare when he reached a mature age. He didn’t tell anyone, but when he was seventeen and his best friend named his new dog Corey Harry ran home to scribble the name out of his journal angry he would never be able to name his child a name that now reminded him of a dog. And even now Harry likes nothing more than baking with the neighbours kids, rocking his cousins baby to sleep at a family party or making a toddler giggle in the queue at the supermarket.

The thing is, writing name lists, cuddling babies close to his chest, and dreaming of now isn’t the same as being in the moment. It’s sort of everything Harry could have dreamed of, like bursting love, and the joy of new life. But the reality that the future is now and the future in uncertain isn’t what he dreamt up.

The journal had a few blank spaces but one important thing was true love, a white picket fence and a forever. He drums his fingers against the window pane as the phone rings against his ear, half of him wills it to hurry up and for Louis to pick up. The other half silently hopes it goes unanswered and he gets the answering service. He can’t pick an emotion to side with it seems.

Louis picks up on the third ring and Harry’s stomach swoops happily, all his dark thoughts getting clouded away in an instant by the voice his heart has grown to associate with all things good and symbolic of home. “‘Ello,” Louis says, half distracted but still as tender as ever.

“Hi,” Harry squeaks out quickly.

“Harry,” Louis starts, “Don’t be mad at Zayn-”

Harry instantly panics. It’s barely been a few hours. Zayn couldn’t possibly have-

“He talked to me yesterday. He told me you were still sick,” Louis says, maybe a tiny bit upset and worried. “You could’ve told me you were still ill.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Harry replies, honest and bare. “I knew you would.”

Louis laughs. “Of course I would. Babe, don’t be mad. I’m coming home-”

“Louis,” Harry says interrupting him definitely mad. It’s stupid. He was calling him to somehow get him home early anyway yet here he is mad Louis has gone and done it himself. He fights back the feeling at the back of his throat that threatens to choke all sorts of overflowing emotions out of him. Louis just knows. He knows when he just needs him.

“I said don’t get mad,” he replies. “I know you aren’t really mad anyway.”

Harry blinks his eyes a few times. “I really-” he doesn’t have any idea how to say this. He doesn’t know how to form the proper words he needs. He needs to talk to him. He needs to tell him something.

“I’ll see you in London?” he says instead, clutching the phone tightly against his ear and biting his lips closed, so scared it will just jump out. It sits right there on the edge of his tongue. “I really need you,” Harry says instead. He doesn’t scold him for fucking up filming schedules again and driving his director insane. He just lets him know he’ll be waiting for him.

.

Harry cancels his week in New York and goes home without a second thought. Caroline gets it and tells him she’s glad, because he has had her worried sick all month.

He’s also partially forced to go home, visit his doctor and call his mother by Zayn and Niall who have taken their roles as overprotective caregivers very seriously. Harry doesn’t know how many times he can repeat he’s pregnant not sick to their deaf ears. He also wonders aloud if Niall ever works because he seems to always be following them around like a creepy irish shadow.

Dr.Parker tells Harry he most definitely is pregnant with a bright smile and a hand extended for a high five. Harry happily obliges her with the high five but refuses to take the ‘I’m pregnant!’ sticker she offers. He doesn’t want everyone to find out that way, otherwise he thinks it is pretty cute. She notices his apprehension and hands him a bunch of pamphlets he probably doesn’t need to read. Like seriously, he knows this shit he’ll be fine. He had an emergency jar of folic acid tablets in his flat despite his super healthy diet. He’s got this.

“Do you want to book your scan?” she says kindly as they walk to the door, “Or you can just call.”

“I think-” Harry says biting his bottom lip. He can’t make plans. He wants to cry again because of all these emotions. “I’ll just call.”

Harry sits in his car in the doctor's car park for a good ten minutes before driving to a drive thru and buying fries. He then sits in that empty parking lot and does what he has been avoiding.

“Hey mum,” he says when she picks up with a joyful vibrant greeting.

“Harry, you just caught me,” she replies. “I was just in the garden. You are alright darling?”

Harry isn’t alright. He’s having a baby. And he feels wonderful, he woke up this morning and he could almost feel it extending from his dreams into his arms. But then he also woke up with one side of the bed empty. It’s sudden and scary but that makes him feel selfish. He’s not supposed to be frightened and worried, he’s not supposed to be just thinking about himself. Harry is walking a tightrope of extremes and nothing scares him like falling off either side and losing the person he cares most about at the end. Or, losing this new life beneath his fingertips.

“No,” he says, voice wobbling and cracking. “Mum-”

“Oh Harry,” she says and he can tell she is moving to sit down at the kitchen table. The same table he scribbled on when he was five.

She hasn’t even met Louis other than through skype or hearing his voice in the background of calls.

“What’s wrong Harry?” she asks with her mum voice.

Harry tries his best to rip the band aid off. “I’m pregnant.”

If he is expecting her to pass out or scream at him he is wrong. “Harry!” she says with a mix between shock and surprise. It sounds like she immediately covers her mouth after it escapes and she muffles the phones receiver. “Sorry,” she says. “That wasn’t supposed to be so loud. Oh, you and Louis must be so happy!-”

“You aren’t supposed to be this happy,” he says with a smile he can’t help on his face.

“Oh why not?” she huffs.

“Because I’m making terrible life choices! You’ve not even met Louis, he could be terrible-”

Anne interrupts, “He’s made you the happiest you’ve ever been. Those were your exact words. What more do I need to know?”

Harry goes to start again but she keeps on talking.

“All the other women at my coffee group have grandbabies and you know what Gemma is like, no use trying there,” she huffs. “I’m allowed to be over the moon, my baby is finally have a baby.”

“Louis doesn’t know,” Harry says his voice not so weak now. He didn’t know why he thought this would go badly. Clearly, he was being more overdramatic than needed. “I’m scared.”

“About what? Does he not want a baby?” she asks Harry.

Harry thinks back to all the little moments like watching kids in the park as they strolled around sharing coy smiles with each other, Louis smiling at babies in the supermarket and their conversation in bed that one morning. He thinks of Louis’ big family and all those siblings he always seeing squished into a photo frame or in a picture on a phone. He thinks of the big backyard Louis said they should get, and the way he pointed on the tiny football kits this one time when they were in a sports store saying how cute they would look with Tomlinson written on the back.

“Well- I mean, we haven’t talked about it that much.”

There is a difference between liking the idea or something and wanting it right here and now. Harry isn’t sure where Louis sits on the fence.

.

Harry is cooking pasta in just a flimsy pair of underwear and socks later that night when Louis uses his key to unlock the front door of Harry’s flat. The first thing he is about to notice is Harry isn’t all that deadly and sick. In fact he felt terrible for the first half of the day but has been fine since, and this plain flavoured bland meal should keep it that way.

Harry could have planned this out a thousand ways in his head, and he did try, but it’s sitting right there on his tongue. And he knows he can’t live with his hurricane in his head for much longer, especially now that he can hear Louis’ shoes on the hardwood floors calling him home.

He hasn’t even attempted to hide the pamphlets he was given he thinks, as he switches the pasta off and takes it off the stove. He can’t do this. It will come out as soon as he lays eyes on him.

“Harry,” Louis calls, dumping his bags on the floor so someone will trip over them later.

Harry thinks his nausea could be coming back. “Lou,” he squeaks out as Louis’ rounds the corner into the kitchen with this awfully worried look on his face.

“You should be in bed!” he says affronted, standing there looking so perfect, tired and worn down, but perfect and handsome nonetheless. “And you should be wearing clothes Harry, we’ve talked about this.”

He’s teasing him, Harry knows. “Hi,” Harry repeats again, smiling this time and every bad thought he had over the last few days dropping out of his head. Louis’ looks like he has worried himself sick over Harry as usual. He probably would’ve been ten times more concerned if he knew the truth.

As usual, Harry thinks. Maybe they aren’t such a deconstructed mess and maybe they are more normal than he gives them credit for because they even have these little relationship things. Like Louis dropping the bags on the floor, and getting worried, Harry never wearing proper clothes around the house and the way this all makes him feel.

Harry steps forward away from the benchtop and with soft steps he reaches out for Louis to grip at his shoulders and tug him into a hug. “Hi,” Harry repeats again, this time his mouth pressed against his neck and his breath hot against skin.

“Hi baby,” Louis says, wrapping around him and listening to Harry’s tender reply. They just stand like that for a few seconds before Harry tries to kiss him properly and Louis pulls away. “Hey,” Louis says softly, as Harry pouts, “You’re sick.”

The plan was to wait this out. He could do it in the morning, or tomorrow night. But he can’t keep a single thing from Louis and he knows it. Even now, three seconds in, he’s flushed and guilty because Louis looks at him with such honest eyes.

“We need to talk,” Harry says shakily not letting go and his fingers digging into Louis’ shoulder tighter. He can almost feel the smallest thundering of a flutter beneath his belly. He knows he’s dreaming it up.

Louis hums and pulls back giving Harry a quizzical look and tilting his head. “About what?” he ponders. “Are you leaving me?” he jokes, narrowing his eyes, “Or are you cutting your hair?”

Not quite.

“It’s not that,” Harry murmurs as Louis rubs his palms up and down Harry’s arms trying to soothe him. He waits patiently for Harry to talk, but Harry knows him and he can see the concern in his eyes that he isn’t letting on. Maybe he really does think he is breaking up with him.

“I just-” Harry says with a dry mouth. He stops and takes a deep breath, he averts his eyes from their spot staring at the wall to the right of them to look at Louis properly.

“I love you,” Louis says his gaze not wavering. Harry’s heart almost stops in his chest.

It’s not like he didn’t know it. But the words hit him like bricks and make his eyes blink back tears. Louis loves him.

“I love you too,” he replies before adding with a shaky breath, “And, I’m pregnant.”

The fallout is silence and the two seconds feel longer than the five minutes Harry waited for the pregnancy test to develop. For a moment he thinks he might not have heard him properly.

“What?” Louis says, the corners of his mouth turning up. He pulls back a bit, not letting go of Harry’s arms, to look down between them. “You’re-” he looks back at Harry and down again before letting out a tiny laugh. His fingers grip onto Harry’s forearm tighter, like he is afraid he is about to bolt away from him now, spooked and scared.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes out, almost a whisper. Louis looks back up at him and his shiny eyes and Harry adds just as quiet, “Oops.”

It’s as if Louis can sense his fears and apprehension because despite the fact that he has just been told life altering news and he has every right to be selfish, he puts a palm against Harry’s cheek guiding his eyes from the ground toward his own. “We’re having a baby,” he says with sparkling eyes and a wide smile, speaking up at the end of the statement like it’s a question he can’t believe he knows the answer to. “You’re having my baby,” he repeats again quieter, arching his eyebrows up in a question.

Harry nods quickly before Louis’ leans in to kiss him deep, his palms venturing down to press at Harry’s belly. It’s just flat but Louis places a hand against the skin and Harry moves his own so they can rest together.

He finally feels like he can breath again. It’s been days since his lungs felt this light. “I’m sorry-” Harry starts as they pull away.

“Hey,” Louis says shushing him, shaking his head and forcing Harry to stop talking. He lets go of him to duck down and get on his knees. His hands that once laid flat on Harry’s belly grab hold of his soft hips tugging him forward and Louis presses his lips against the panes of Harry’s flat bare stomach.

It tickles and Harry can’t help but giggle as Louis repetitively kisses his belly as if greeting their tiny little surprise for the first time without words.

All the bad moody dark thoughts Harry was burdened with before aren’t messing with his head now. He places a hand on the back of Louis’ head touching his hair as he attempts to blow a raspberry against Harry’s belly making him laugh. For this moment, right here and now it’s all good and momentarily perfect the way it should be. He takes a deep breath.

.

Because, like Niall and Zayn, Louis can’t differentiate the difference between being actually sick and being pregnant. He scoops Harry up and puts him in bed, while he finishes making the dinner Harry had started on. He brings it up on a tray and bundles up next to him resting against the pillows.

The pasta didn’t really turn out the way it was supposed it, however Louis did a wonderful job trying to save it. Harry thanks him and eats it eagerly.

“How many weeks?” Louis asks casually when they stop grinning at each other, watching him carefully and putting another hand on his belly. With a mouth full of food Harry tries not to speak and simply points at the top draw on the bedside table. His tummy is filled with butterflies.

Louis opens it up and pulls out an almost new looking leather journal. When he opens it up the pamphlets and doctors notes fall out onto the sheets.

“Around six weeks,” Harry says pointing it out on the paper, “In four weeks, we’ll know the due date after the scan.”

Louis whips his head around so fast he risks hurting something. “Did you book it already?”

Harry shakes his head. “No,” he says softly. “I want you to be there. Us together.”

“Good,” Louis says running a finger over the writing Harry has scribbled onto the first page of the book. He runs a thumb over the date Harry found out to the first doctors visit. “Because I’m going to be there, for everything-”

Harry leans over to cuddle closer to his side, fitting between the curve of Louis’ waist and bumping their shoulders. “I know,” he says, because he does.

“You are the most important thing to me,” he says, sighing and turning his head to kiss Harry’s crown. “Us and our little family.”

Harry’s cheeks flush and his heart quickens.

“Fuck everything else,” Louis says leaning over and grabbing a pen from the drawer and uncapping it with his teeth. He writes the date down in messy writing along with Louis knows!

They know they won’t find out the proper estimated due date until the ultrasound but it doesn’t stop them painfully trying to work it out and figure out when this all went down.

“It had to be before Spain,” Harry says his forehead pressed against Louis’ shoulder.

“Then it was before Monaco-”

“Nope,” Harry sighs with a giggle.

Louis pouts his lips thinking for a moment. “You might be right,” he admits. “But how?”

Harry mumbles with a slight eye roll, “It might have been my medication-”

Harry was on birth control but was famously terrible at it. He just really wasn’t good at the taking it at the same time everyday thing. Or apparently knowing the ins and outs of it. His excuse always that changing time zones regularly made it literally impossible to manage.

“Before we went away I had to see the doctor, but I couldn’t get my normal one. She prescribed me some stuff. The labels were all French, you know I’m bad sometimes at-”

Louis laughs into his shoulder and Harry stops with a pout. “Hey,” he whines trying not to giggle. Louis always finds Harry’s language difficulties and failures cute. Harry finds that cute.

After a second or two Louis gasps. “It was you and dancing.”

The embarrassing images of that night flood back to Harry, now sober and bashful about his actions in the daylight. Louis shakes his shoulder. They had a lot of sex that weekend, but there was only one time where they climbed into the shower and laughed about the fact that Harry had come dripping between his legs before Louis ate him out pressed against the tiles.

“Oh,” Harry stutters with a laugh as he presses his forehead against Louis’ own. “We did forget that time didn’t we.”

In the moment it was fine of course, a little lapse of judgement which was okay considering they were both completely committed to each other and clean. But factored in with Harry’s misjudgement, a lot of alcohol, and Harry giving a lapdance in tiny black panties it seems it wasn’t just a little moment with no repercussions.

“All that gambling,” Harry giggles with the glint in his eyes that says he’s going to make a joke. “Won us a baby.”

They just watch each other for a good while, drinking it in with the pale light and the cover of the night making them brave. After a while Harry breaks it.

“It’s not going to be easy,” he whispers. “I don’t know what we are supposed to do, or how we make this work. I didn’t expect this, but I’m so happy anyway. I’ve always wanted this, you and me and a baby.”

“I didn’t expect this either,” Louis replies just as tender. “But I thought that before, I didn’t expect you, and look at us. Following the normal path is overrated.” He senses Harry’s apprehensions and worries that etch into his forehead. “We’re going to be fine. Think about us here and now. I want this, I’ve always wanted this maybe I didn’t dream it this way, but I did dream it with you.”

He knows now when he says us, he doesn’t just mean Harry and Louis anymore.

“How do you feel?”

Harry thinks about it. “Like I love you,” he says just because he wants to hear the words on his tongue again. “I know you’re going to be an amazing dad, you already are. And that with you here we will all be okay. This is crazy and scary and magical but we’ll be okay.”

Louis pecks at his lips, nose, cheeks and forehead until Harry glows with a pale rosy shine. “What are you thinking?” he asks Louis.

Louis mind tonight has been a non stop marathon of thoughts, chasing each other continually in circles. His favourite of them all is the constant I love you I love you he feels with every pump of his chest. Because it has been there for weeks now, and it’s never been so bright and vibrant as ever before. And it doesn’t just extend to Harry but to the gift of family he is giving him. They are having a baby, they are going to be a family.

“Lots of things,” he says. “Like you should move into mine, and I want to meet your family, and I’m thinking of how I don’t want to leave your side and all the ways I can make that possible. But mostly I’m thinking of how happy I am because there is no one else I’d rather do this with and no one that has ever made me feel this way. And we’re having a baby, a baby.”

Harry understands. He feels it too. They could talk about everything to the ends of the earth but they are both jet lagged and tired, Harry knows he falls asleep before Louis, tucked up against his chest and lying on their sides so he can be spooned from behind. The last thing he remembers is Louis’ hands spreading warm circles against his stomach, as if lulling them both to sleep.

.

When Harry climbs out of the car with a helping hand from Louis (he’s just nudging close to seven weeks, Louis unsurprisingly is treating him like he is about to give birth) he is slowly reciting the names over in his head again. There is Lottie who he spoke to on the phone, there is Felicite who likes to be call Fizzy, and the twins Daisy and Phoebe who he knows he won’t be able to tell apart. Plus, Doris and Earnest who probably won’t care if Harry forgets their names.

Louis doesn’t look worried at all as he walks them up the driveway. He looked concerned the entire car ride worried Harry was going to feel sick and not tell him. He asked him every time they drove past a petrol station if he wanted to get out and every time, Harry said he was fine. But as soon as the engine switched off he looked relaxed and at ease. So the complete opposite of Harry then.

There is just going to be so many people. The chance of one of them not liking Harry is very high, and the chance of his mother specifically not liking him and the fact that he is having a baby and all that is at the forefront of his mind. Louis hasn’t even told her. He is just going to drop a Harry sized baby bombshell over dinner or something. Harry links their fingers together tighter and stays by his side. He itches to palm at his belly but refrains.

Louis knocks on the door and Harry wants to hide behind him or the potted plants. Their weird telepathy thing probably lets Louis know this and is probably the reason why he keeps him closer with soft palms that leave lightning marks of warmth on his hips and belly. He adds careful soft looks with tiny arched eyebrows to silently check if he is alright. Footsteps sound from inside and make their way to the door. It’s swung open by a blonde headed girl in sweatpants and a tank top.

“Louis,” she says her brows furrowing and taking him in before she looks at Harry with a small smile. “I was expecting a package you knob. Now I’ve ran down the stairs for nothing.”

“That’s a nice way to greet your brother isn’t it,” Louis laughs causing Harry to giggle slightly, his cheeks still red and his teeth biting into his bottom lip hard. “At least be more polite to Harry,” he says motioning to the boy next to him.

Harry knows this is Lottie from the pictures he has seen and from briefly chatting to her on the phone he can recognise her voice. She extends her hand and Harry tentatively takes it in his own to shake politely. “Hello Harry, it’s lovely to finally meet you.”

As Harry goes to tell her likewise another girl appears in the doorway with a head of brown hair in a high ponytail and a perfectly curved brow. “What are you doing here,” she asks with a hint of knowing. “What have you done?”

Louis ignores her. “Are you going to let us in or are we going to stand outside till someone with proper manners comes along?”

“Alright, come in then,” the one Harry assumes is Felicite says, letting them in the doorway and stepping aside so they can kick off their shoes. Harry shakes her hand also and she introduces herself trying not to laugh at how proper he is trying to be.

“What is the-” Louis’ mother says stopping herself as she wanders down the hall with a toddler in her arms. She stops mid walk and looks at what and who is causing all the commotion in her house. She looks at Louis before gasping out, “Harry,” much to amusement of the girls. “Louis,” she says much sterner and moving to put a hand on her hip. “Does it kill you to call?”

“I told him to,” Harry says defensive of his virtue. “He told me he did.”

Louis raises his arms. “I said I would. There is a difference.”

Jay frowns. “The difference is you didn’t.”

She steps forward and hands the baby to Lottie who takes him eagerly into her arms. Jay instantly wraps Harry up in a hug he wasn’t expecting. “Hello Harry,” she says. He likes it and he likes that she hugs tightly, kind of like Louis does. When she lets go after a moment she is back to crossed arms and a frown.

“Where have you been hiding him?” she asks Louis, clearly about Harry. “And why have you been hiding this lovely boy from me?”

Harry thinks he may be off to a good start.

“I’ve been busy killing zombies and stuff mum.”

When Jay finally accepts Louis’ apology Harry is carefully introduced to the two sets of twins. The older set, Daisy and Phoebe are up in their tree house with the neighbours kids and the best they can get out of them is a quick, ‘Hey Louis,’ and, ‘Hello Harry.” Even when Louis says, “He’s my boyfriend you know!” he only gets back a muffled, “Cool.”

The other twins take to Harry better and he has a load of fun looking after them while they toddle around the family room picking up blocks, toys and even plants to show him. Doris also seems to like grabbing at his hair which he thinks is sweet. And from the smile Louis gives him from where he stands in the kitchen he thinks he likes it too. He plays with the twins and chats to Lottie while he leaves Louis to talk to his mum alone. He doesn’t want to intrude but then, Louis might want him eventually. He just waits to see if he hears screaming or plates being thrown.

Lottie is studying makeup and hairdressing and Harry loves the way she asks him loads of questions about shows, runways, shoots and his job. He tells her she has to come up to London. “I’ll introduce you some people. My friend Louise is great, she’s really nice and I bet she would let you go out with her for the day or hang around the studio,” he tells her watching her nod along and her eyes sparkle.

“Oh, I’ll have to come up when I’ve got a free weekend.”

Harry smiles. “You can stay with Louis and I.”

“Oh,” she smiles back. “So you are living together then?”

Technically they both have their own homes in London, but with what Louis said the other night and the simple fact that when they are both there at the same time they literally just move into one of their homes and set up camp it’s pretty much reality. Harry thinks the plan might be he’ll move into Louis’ and they will either sell Harry’s or rent it out so they can plan for the baby together. Also some time in the near future Harry is going to have to confront the fact that his and Zayn’s lease on the Paris apartment is almost up and he will need to think about that. He loves it to death but, there is no room for a baby there.

“Well,” Harry stutters. “Yeah, sort of.”

She gives him a knowing smirk as he blushes and hands Doris another soft toy for her to throw at her brother. He has to resist the urge to gently palm his stomach and to spill everything to Lottie about how she is going to be an aunt and then she’ll definitely have to come to London to babysit for them. Harry bites his tongue and continues to distract himself with the babies in front of him.

.

Dinner rolls around quicker than normal with Harry and Louis helping in the kitchen. Harry keeps giving Louis these little looks with an arch of an eyebrow and a quirk of a lip, as if asking how long are you going to drag this on for? And Louis keeps giving him sneaky pats on his belly, and asking him if he is alright.

The plan was to drive back tonight, Louis has a plane to catch eventually. And Harry can either get on that plane or stay. It’s his choice alone. Of course Louis wants him to come but he can’t force him, especially when he knows how badly Harry wants to see his family.

He thinks of how selfish he is being, wasting all this time when they could fit in seeing Harry’s parents on this short trip. He must be dying to see his mum. They eat dinner at one big table and Louis doesn’t even get to sit near Harry as he has been stolen by his sisters and is occupied fawning over the babies in their high chairs.

Louis tries to keep the heart eyes and stuff to a minimum but does miss his mouth from being distracted a couple of times as Harry feeds Earnest and his mum watches on just as fond. She had told him earlier in the kitchen to look after this boy because of all the good he brings. People like Harry don’t come around often, she said. He knows how right she is, and how after seeing this she is going to be ten times more aggressive about loving Harry and she’ll be calling him her son by the end of the evening. It barely took Harry a few hours to wriggle his way into her heart.

He doesn’t do it during dinner, not with nine pairs of eyes watching and staring him down. He knows Harry is probably thinking he’s brought him all this way to just be a coward. So while Louis drys and Jay cleans the dishes he tries his best to gently break the news she is going to be a grandmother.

“I didn’t just come here randomly,” Louis admits.

She doesn’t seem shocked at that news. “Oh, really?”

He puts down pot he is drying and starts wringing his hands together. “Yeah, well. You see-” he starts and stops. He coughs into the back of his palm and fixes his fringe.

“It can’t be that bad.”

True. This isn’t like the time he had to tell her he crashed the car. Or, he was about to get kicked out of school.

He tries casual. “Harry is sort of pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

The eavesdroppers in the next room gasp.

“Sort of pregnant?” Jay laughs.

“Really pregnant,” Louis corrects himself.

“I’m really going to be a grandmother?”

“Yeah,” Harry says interrupting them, shifting on the backs of his feet in the doorway with a shy little smile and a half dimple.

She covers her heart with her hands and tilts her head to the side looking across the room at the two of them. Louis motions for Harry to stop being creepy in the doorway and come in, he slithers up into Louis’ side, just under his arm politely. All while Jay tries to stop the happy tears that threaten to roll down her face.

“I’m too young to be grandma, I’ll just have to be nan of something,” she says waving a hand about and then cuddling the two of them up in a hug. She pinches Louis cheek and asks, “How long have you been keeping this from me?”

“Not even a week,” he says truthfully. “Promise.”

.

The entire house ends up fussing over them and Jay and Dan refuse to let them go, so Harry and Louis end up sleeping in the spare room after its too late to go. In the morning they pack up their things and leave, but not before Jay successfully smothers Harry, making sure he has her mobile number and home phone, makes him promise to call whenever he needs anything, gets Louis to agree they will visit again soon and lectures Louis about being a good boyfriend and son. It takes about an hour from when they say they are leaving to when they actually pull out of the driveway, Harry sitting in the passenger seat with a blinding smile waving happily to everyone from the window.

He doesn’t stop talking all the way to his parents place about how Lottie is going to visit and he’ll take her out shopping, and he is going to make sure she has an internship for when she graduates, and how much fun he had with the babies. And of course how great everyone is and how Louis mum told him all these neat things about morning sickness, and he is so happy but now he is sort of worried they will have twins (Louis assures him not to panic while mentally freaking out a little) because while that would be nice that would be a lot of hard work, he’s been planning for one.

Basically, they have a lot to talk about. Despite this Harry, being a good son, manages to make sure his mum knows well ahead of time that they are going to pop in for a visit and what time they should arrive.

The early morning start means it is a bit harder for Harry, despite his very fruity and healthy breakfast that is light on the stomach, he ends of throwing up on the side of the road in what could be his least glamorous moment ever (it definitely beats being sick on the plane back from Milan). At least this time Louis is there to rub his back and give him water like the perfect boyfriend and future dad he is. He barely flinches at it all.

It’s Louis’ turn to be nervous as Harry’s mum Anne opens the door and grabs hold of Harry so tight it looks as if she might never let go. She kisses his forehead about four hundred times before pressing her palms to his cheeks and asking, “How are you feeling?” she smiles down at his tummy as if trying to spot a bump. Louis is sure this will infalt Harry’s idea he is showing already.

“Great,” Harry smiles.

“He threw up in a ditch.”

Harry shoots him a look over his shoulder. “Excuse me. I’m weathering it well. I’m glowing,” he says jutting his chin out because of course he does.

Anne frowns at Harry and gives Louis a look that instantly reminds him of Harry himself. She rubs at his cheek.“Darling, you look very pale. Are you tired? Have a lie down.”

Louis’ can’t see Harry’s face but he has a good idea of the look he pulls. “I’m glowing,” he mumbles. He wants to tell her to leave it alone, it’s a touchy subject. Instead he tries to subtly put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and soft hip and say, “You are a real trooper babe,” to divert the course this conversation is about to take (which is Harry being passive aggressive, getting his books out of the car and demanding Louis go to the supermarket for watermelon, blueberries, and grapefruit so he can eat them while doing yoga). He still hasn’t complained once to Louis about anything, either he is a superhero baby making machine or bottling it in.

“This is my boyfriend Louis,” Harry tells her. Louis gives him a dorky smile and so Harry repeats, “He’s my boyfriend,” like it is a secret inside joke. Or he just wants to repeat the word over and over again. He is pretty sure his mother knows exactly who he is and their relationship status. The eye roll she gives Harry and his antics confirm this.

Louis tells her it is a pleasure to finally meet her and be welcomed into her home. She seems impressed. Anne finds a box of Harry’s baby pictures and lets Louis laugh over them at the dining room table while Harry tries to hide his shame next to him. “You had blonde hair,” Louis coos.

“Stop.”

“Blonde curly hair,” Louis laughs.

“His first word was cat,” Anne says pouring tea for the three of them and laying food out on the table.

Harry huffs. “Mum. Stop.” He tries to grab at the image in Louis’ hands but Louis is quick and holds it close. “You’re never going to think I’m cool again.”

Louis laughs, “I never did,” as he pulls out his phone to try and snap a shot of the old picture for keepsakes while he isn’t watching. Harry pouts at his mother for embarrassing him continually.

“Oh, you’ll be fine,” she shushes, handing him a scone.

They eat together until Robin comes home, Harry introduces him to Louis and giddily tells him he’s pregnant. He can’t help but notice the smile on his mum and step dad’s faces and he immediately knows she told him before he did. He specifically asked her not to do that. “I hope you didn’t tell Gemma,” Harry whines. “I’d like to be able to surprise at least one person with the news.”

They both laugh and Harry and Louis look at each other. “Oh, it’s not that much of a surprise H.”

.

Louis gets on the plane because he has to, not without kissing him a hundred times and whispering tender little words and secrets against Harry’s belly (willing baby to look after their daddy and not give him too much trouble) before he hits the tarmac. They both know the baby it too much of a little dot to hear but it doesn’t stop them.

Harry puts a date on his calendar for a week and a half till he will be back. And it all feels slightly up in the air until then. It’s not that life doesn’t go on when they are apart, Harry’s life doesn’t stop without Louis, some things just need to go on hold.

This time more than ever it speeds ahead. When Louis told his team the news they figured there wasn’t going to be any changing minds or different options. It’s not like he was living firmly in the closet anyway, and half the world figured he spent more time with Harry than anyone else. Harry got to stand just a little bit closer to Louis at the airport than usual with a warm feeling in his belly of new beginnings starting to take flight. In the distance someone snapped pictures of them that would be used to hint at something more. Harry gave him and extra long hug at the gate, while Louis’ whispered he loved him.

He tells Gemma on a Tuesday and she reacts just how he expected her to, with a lecture and a frown beneath glowing eyes that told him otherwise. But after all that, she comes around telling him she might have to beat Louis up for knocking him up next time she sees him. And that she is happy he is so happy. They do sneaky baby shopping after their tea date.

He does his pre booked shoots and editorials and that is how he tells Caroline with a snuffle and a few tears (not because he’s sad, but just really emotional and slightly guilty feeling).

“Oh doll,” she says holding him in her arms and waving about to get Lydia to make him a hot drink. “Don’t cry on me.”

“Sorry,” Harry sniffles. “I just feel like I let you all down.”

“What?” she almost shouts, affronted and offended at the suggestion.

“I was going to be face of Saint Laurent.” Or at least that was what everyone was waiting for.

Her jaw drops. “And who says you can’t?” Caroline asks Harry, tilting her head and causing him to go speechless without a reply. She’s always right. “I think you want this more than a stupid exclusive deal anyway. And don’t go around here talking like you’ve got to pick one or the other. Maybe we’ll just have to shift things around a little.”

Harry gives a slight watery laugh and nod. “Yeah.”

“Stop talking like this is the end-”

“I’m not.”

“It’s the start. Do you know how many pregnancy publications will die to have you work for them? You could probably pick any in the world. You do know Paige denim sells maternity jeans doll, they will be dying to get you as their face.”

“Trust me everyone will be talking soon,” Lydia replies holding a cup of tea out for him. She says giddily waving her hands around. “How do you feel about a couple shoot? How would Louis like that?”

“I’ll have to ask,” Harry replies, a lot happier and content with their support and the weight off his chest as he takes the drink and doesn’t feel so bloody stupid. “But I’d like that.”

.

Louis tries his best to be as quiet as possible as he opens doors and creeps down the hall. The lights are all out and everything is locked. Normally, he would make as much noise as he’d like. He was living a different life now, a much better and less lonely one shared with the only person he could imagine living it with. The floorboards creak a little under his feet and the added extra weight of his bags. He abandons them by the foot of the bedroom door. Their bedroom door.

He isn’t going to switch the light on, nor make any sudden noises. His plan is to slip off his shoes on the carpeted floors, rid himself of his tired clothes that smell of the plane and slip into his side of the covers right behind Harry. But Harry’s eyes blink back at him through the dark, he clearly didn’t listen to Louis’ when he said don’t wait up.

“Lou,” he whispers, sleepy and confused. Louis’ can’t help but be hopelessly endeared by him.

“Morning,” he replies quietly, as if he is still asleep and he doesn’t want to spook him.

Harry’s hair is half falling out of its bun, little strands and curls escaping everywhere from tossing and turning and illuminated by the moon shining between the gap in the curtains. He also has an imprint of the sheet in his cheek, Louis thinks as he switches one of the bedside lamps on and floods the room with pale milky light. He still looks like every bit the perfect sight he has been waiting hours to come home too.

Louis leans down on the bed to wrap arms around him and Harry presses his face against his neck, just breathing each other in and bathing it in. Louis doesn’t know if Harry will even remember this in the morning with the way his body moulds into his like he is being dragged back into slumber. He does however pull back to kiss at him, searching for his lips in the dead of the night and finding them like a beacon calling out. “You’re home,” Harry breathes against his bottom lip, his own turning up in a smile. “We missed you.”

Home isn’t this house, Louis thinks. It’s a heart that mirrors his own.

“I missed you too,” Louis replies. He pulls back so he can smile at him, frequenting himself with the curves and angles of Harry’s face, memorising the lines he loves so much. His arms that hold him close give Louis’ the perfect leverage to rub a soft hand over his belly. It makes Harry smile knowing what they are both thinking of. He missed them too. “I got you a few things.”

Harry’s tired eyes jump and his face lights up. “Presents?”

Louis hums in agreement and lets go of him, jumping off the bed and finding his bag. He grabs it from its spot at the door. He pulls out the multiple items from the backpack, carefully counting them out and returning to their bed with them all in a single gift bag.

Harry is bashful and tells him off for getting so many things. Louis rolls his eyes because really they are all small little gifts (he makes up his mind there to spent hundreds on a single item next time as a way to bend the rules).

Louis sits back against the pillows and Harry sits in his lap, his bare back against Louis’ chest and wrapped up tight. Louis watches from over his shoulder as he carefully sticks a hand in the bag pulls one out. There are candles and soaps and a stupid fridge magnet Louis found while waiting in an airport gift shop, Harry giggles over this one. He doesn’t giggle over the red frilled pair of tiny underwear he receives. He arches his eyebrows prettily at those. He gets most bashful over a vintage silver ring that when you look closely is patterned with the imprint of a woven rope, Louis tells him he searched for hours in old jewelry stores for the perfect one he hoped would fit him right.

The last gift is right at the bottom and in its own white box with a pale bow. Louis holds Harry tightly, arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, as Harry cheekily asks, “Do I need to be careful with this one?”

Louis isn’t sure what he thinks it might be. Harry keeps his guesses to himself. “It’s not breakable,” Louis replies motioning his hand in the air for Harry to pull at the bow. He does so and it falls to the sides, he carefully lifts the white lid off the box to reveal a perfect pair of white knitted baby booties seated in tissue paper. Together the pair could fit in one hand.

Harry doesn’t move or say anything for a moment, he just carefully looks at the tiniest of gifts that sits in his lap.

“They’re made of alpaca wool,” Louis whispers into his ear and kissing the side of his face gently. “It’s hypoallergenic, I knew you’d like that.”

Harry reaches out to run his thumb over the woven wool testing its softness. “You’re going to be such a good dad. The best,” Harry says softly, turning his head to nudge at Louis’ cheek with his own, just breathing him in. Louis tugs him closer and holds him tighter, kissing him as the morning rises.

.

At ten weeks it’s time for their first ultrasound. It was an easy choice for both of them to obtain a private midwife with specialist treatment and private care. It was an extra cost but their privacy, and Harry and the baby’s health were the most important thing. It was also a stress reliever for Harry to know him and the baby were going to be Lucy’s top priority and she was prepared to fly out with them if needed or transfer them onto their other partnership clinics in different cities and locations if anything were to happen while they weren’t in London.

The morning of the scan Harry wakes Louis up by kissing his cheeks softly and whispering all sorts of nonsense into the dark room. Between compliments of his eyelashes and tiny I love you’s Harry says, “The baby’s heart is fully formed. It works all proper now.”

Louis doesn’t open his eyes but wraps his arms around Harry’s middle and cuddles him up. He hums in agreement with a soft smile. He softly replies, “Can you feel the heartbeat?”

He knows he can’t but he likes the way Harry hides his head into Louis neck and holds tighter. “Only in my head,” he replies pecking him again. “Only if I pretend.”

Louis moves his palm onto the still flat expanse of Harry’s stomach, his belly still nothing but its normal pre baby shape (although Harry claims he has grown a bit and Louis isn’t prepared to argue about that). He rubs his fingers trying to tickle him and Harry curls in on himself. “Stop,” he giggles. “That’s not how you say good morning.”

Louis lets go of Harry and he falls back against the white sheets, all soft and still slightly sleepy. Louis allows himself to drink him in for a few moments before ducking down beneath the covers to grab at his belly and attack it with big kisses that echo through their bedroom. “Hello bean,” he whispers making Harry groan because he isn’t too fond of that nickname yet.

“Sorry,” Louis sighs sarcastically. “I forgot you hate that one.”

He tries again with a soft, “Good morning bub,” kissed against Harry’s belly button. He eventually let’s go of his hips and slithers back up the bed with red lips and messy hair. “And morning to you baby,” he says with a devilish grin at Harry who pouts his lips for a kiss. Louis indulges him with a lengthy smooch that ends up more heated than he intended.

“Come on,” Harry says eventually stopping him before they decide to stick to bed. “Today is the day.”

Their appointment is early so they plan to have brunch out afterwards, Harry insistent he shouldn’t eat a big meal before hand and Louis always happy to follow along with what he has planned. He is the baby expert. This doesn’t stop Harry from trying to share a bright green coloured smoothie with him in the car for energy, wellbeing and good luck (and maybe just because they recommend to drink lots beforehand). It takes a little more effort to get Louis to oblige with a grin. But with a pout and a very cute, “But I made it for you,” he takes Harry’s orders.

It has felt real since the moment Harry told him, and there have been all sorts of events since that have cemented that sentiment. Like the morning sickness, buying vitamins, pills and even the white baby booties he picked and paid for himself, and a sleepy Harry who tosses and turns through the night. The list of tiny memories is long but there is something different and exciting about pushing the clinic door open and walking in together for the first time with one clear goal.

Harry has been twice on different occasions now after they carefully picked it out and talked around with friends and professionals to check if this agency would be best suited to their specific needs. When Harry called Louis after his first visit he had no doubts it was the best choice they could have made. So Harry happily engages in conversation with the receptionists like they are old friends and Louis looks on proud, still it feels more real than anything else that has come before this.

When their time comes Harry takes his hand with a grin and a cheeky, “I’m so excited,” as he tugs Louis down the long hall following the technician. Louis rubs the back of his hand with his thumb with adoration and gentle nerves. They get to meet their tiny little bub for the first time.

Louis pecks Harry on the cheek before he sits up in the chair all wide eyed and excited peering around the room and pointing things out to Louis (and telling Louis to give them the flashdrive so they can keep the video and Louis, can you find my phone? I want you to take pictures. Oh, and the other camera! And maybe a polaroid.) Nothing would make Louis happier than to do these simple things.

While Harry pulls his shirt up smiling and Louis snaps a picture, their midwife walks in like a ray of sunshine. “Oh hi there,” she giggles, rambling along. She waves to Louis like he is a friend, clearly well informed about him. “Don’t mind me, just saying hello. Go back to whatever cute thing you were doing. Hi Louis, nice to meet you.”

She puts her folder down, opening it up to show Harry’s file and sneaks back out the door with a gentle, “I’ll be back to see you later.”

Their sonographer watches on fondly before Harry blushes and stops smiling for the camera. “Sorry,” he laughs. “I’m done.” He grabs hold of Louis hand immediately, and Louis thinks he could be shaking with nerves. She gets the gel out, ready to squirt some on his exposed stomach.

Harry barely registers the cold liquid other than a slight eyebrow raise and grin at Louis, whose eyes dart between Harry’s own and what the technician is doing. He’s far too distracted to snap pictures for Harry now.

“Right,” she grins looking at them both. “Let’s hear this heartbeat first.”

Louis own heart rackets against his chest and his palms are getting numb. He takes his and Harry’s linked fingers and raises them to his mouth, leaving a gentle peck against the back of Harry’s hand while he watches fondly. She gets out the small reader she explains is called a doppler and presses it against Harry’s belly running over the gel.

It’s  few moments of silence as she moves it around trying to find a reading. There are few muffled noises but nothing that resembles a repetitive beat until she switches spots and presses down just a little harder. With the perfect spot comes the perfect thump of a tiny heart.

It’s magical. The purest kind of uninterrupted joy and happiness. It sounds like the first drops of rain against a tin roof, or the galloping of horses hooves beneath you as you set off. Or, at least that is the way Harry had described how it would sound to Louis yesterday.

“There they are,” she smiles. “That sounds quite alright.”

Harry’s eyes sparkle with the faintest hint of happy tears. Louis knew that it would be moving, but its sort of indescribable the way it makes him feel. It almost feels like all three of their heartbeats have synced up as one.

“So we aren’t have twins?” Harry says suddenly, still emotional and with his hand holding onto Louis’ own tightly. He politely wipes his eyes. It is definitely written down on Harry’s file that there is a big chance of twins genetically.

She moves to change machines grabbing the ultrasound so they will be able to see an image and so she can give them a proper dating. She laughs and shakes her head, finally stopping the heart beat and turning the room silent. “I don’t think so.”

While she sets it up Louis and Harry grin at each other wordless. They are really having a baby. Harry is having their baby. “Strong and healthy just like you,” Louis says his tongue all heavy and his brain trying to keep it all together. He says it because he means it, if anyone would make a healthy baby it is Harry. He’d stop at nothing.

“I think I can feel the heartbeat now,” Harry smiles. He takes his hand that’s not occupied gripping onto Louis’ own and taps at his own heart like he has read Louis’ mind. Louis can’t help but lean down to kiss him softly feeling the rhythmic thumping between their joined lips.

The scan confirms what they assumed, there is one tiny little baby in there and not two.

Reflected back at them in a tiny black and white image is the most beautiful sight. Their barely a dot in the size of the universe baby appears on the screen in grainy colour like the beam that takes up their entire world. They are there in picture form, all four little limbs, a body and a head.

“They’re perfect,” Louis says.

“They are about three centimeters,” the sonographer explains, pointing to the screen to try and put it into perspective. She measures carefully and writes the information down, along with a few other things they will need to know. Both Harry and Louis can’t stop staring in awe at the image of their child, so small and occasionally moving on screen. It makes tiny little jerking movements with it’s limbs and Harry giggles telling Louis, “I can’t feel that.”

It’s surreal. It’s everything and more in the best possible way. It is beautiful.

They get the pictures printed out and the video is given to them for keeping and reference. Harry continually talks to the technician about all sorts of things, discussing when they could find out the gender and if she thinks it is a good idea. Harry is very torn. Eventually she has to go and they get to speak to their midwife Lucy who happily coos over their pictures and tells them their due date. They plan their next visits to when it would best fit them all and Harry and Louis are on their way, proudly carrying their pictures just waiting for a chance to show them off to anyone who will listen.

.

Harry is itching to run into every store and buy every adorable gender neutral item they have, he wants to post pictures of the ultrasound picture stuck on the fridge with the novelty magnet Louis got him, he wants a pretty side picture of his almost maybe if you squint bump on instagram and he wants to spill a million cute things on twitter. Instead he goes for cryptic and sly. He thinks his picture of him baking some bread in an oven does the trick.

But he does know that once it’s out that is that. Besides, they take one step at a time. They themselves confirm they live together and the rest is left up to careful media releases and a statement stating they are in a relationship and very happy. That preludes to Harry exiting the first trimester. Harry feels much better (not that he felt bad before, he reminds Louis) and well enough to feel at ease going back to work if only briefly again and travelling.

In short, he hates it.

When he throws his belongings on the floor of Louis’ house in LA and flops on the bed he tells him, “I don’t not like working. I just don’t like being separated like this. I’m staying right here.”

Louis isn’t sure is he means the bed physically or with Louis. He kisses him so much it doesn’t hurt anymore but Harry keeps telling him he feels like they can’t all connect when they are apart. That they are supposed to be together. And he can’t make this baby without him. He then falls asleep mid sentence, his mouth half open and mid thought about how he wants the baby to always hear Louis voice when they fall asleep.

He wakes up to breakfast in bed and the warmth of a gentle breeze through the curtains and open windows that watch out toward the beach.  “Did you make this?” Harry asks upon opening his eyes and looking at the tray being placed down next to him between the sheets.

Louis nods and settles down on his other side, he sure did make those eggs and pour the glass of orange juice. He is a culinary god. “We’re out of baby spinach,” he adds, Harry smiling over the ‘we’ because he is the only one who eats it and he hasn’t been here in this house for weeks. The translation reads, ‘I forgot to buy you and baby your spinach you both like so much.’

“I want to plant some in the garden,” Harry replies and Louis nods along familiar, Harry likes to talk a lot of this hypothetical garden he is going to plant one day. He stuffs his mouth with his scrambled eggs easing Louis’ concerns that he hadn’t eaten all day.

“You want to talk about last night?” Louis asks conversationally.

Harry shrugs his shoulders and continues to eat. “I feel better,” he states and Louis listens intently knowing that if he gives him time it will all come out.

“I just,” Harry sighs, grabbing his glass to drink a little. “I knew when I met you that you were going to be the one, for me at least. That doesn’t worry me,” he says so casually that Louis’ aches.

“I’m a sure thing?”

Harry smiles against the rim of his glass. “We are a sure thing-” he stops mid thought. “Do we have blueberries?”

Louis shakes his head. “Not fresh ones babe.”

Harry pouts a little and Louis knows he is going to have to go to the store and find fresh, not frozen, blueberries sometime within the hour. But then Harry, thriving in the fact that they can do whatever they please in public now, will probably turn this into a fresh farmers market date trip with holding hands and gross PDA. Louis loves that idea.

“I didn’t plan this,” Harry continues after a moment. “If I could have planned it I would have sorted our lives out a bit beforehand, figured what to do with my flat and all these jobs I’ve got and just give us a balance. I’m not worried about you or us, just I’m worried about giving our family the best start.”

Louis runs a hand through Harry’s long hair and scratches his scalp. “You’re doing so well, you’re being so tough on yourself when really Harry we’re managing.”

Louis looks at his stomach, still barely nothing and says, “Tell him he’s doing a wonderful job bub.”

Harry huffs. “I need to slow down,” he sighs.

“You don’t have to. This is only temporary, I’ve dropped things Harry and pulled out of multiple projects now-”

“But I want to. Like you did. I want to do this for our baby. We’re a team.”

He says it like it is a non negotiable, like that Louis always has to kill the spiders, the simple facts that can’t change. And Louis knows Harry, he knows more than anything he is stubborn especially about these things, once he has made his mind up it’s done. Zayn said the hours between Harry finding out he was pregnant and flying back to London he turned into something different, he said he became like a protective mother bear. Louis pulls him tighter around the waist and just smells, he savours the way he feels here in his bed again.

“I dropped Valentino,” Harry says casually, putting more egg into his mouth.

Louis doesn’t know if his heart is supposed to be drop or jump.

“It’s just an ad campaign.”

“Harry-”

He shakes his head. “It will come back around. This won’t.”

.

Harry has been adamant he has had a bump since day one and Louis’ constant indulging of this by continually showering him with rubs, cuddles and belly kisses despite there being nothing to show has furthered this mindset. Almost everyone else squints and tries their best to see it, but Harry and Louis are overly proud of their microscopic baby bump (the only downside of constant exercise, yoga and a very healthy nutritious eating plan, Harry grumbles.) Niall told them he couldn’t see a fucking thing, it just looked like Harry ate a normal sized lunch. He has now been officially disqualified in the godparent race and uninvited to the baby shower.

By thirteen and a half weeks Harry’s visions actually start to become true. He just pops the tiniest bit and his shirts become that little bit snug Louis notices fondly.

Harry pulls it over his head one night before he crawls into bed, flinging it off and tossing it over the arm chair in the corner. It’s the most delicate slight curve that catches the light. As if knowing, Harry smiles at him softly over his shoulder as Louis watches him from the doorway to their bathroom. He is his favourite sight in the world, so beautiful with their baby and so sweet with the way his hair is ruffled with sleep and tenderness.

“Do you know what the worst part about having such a big bump is?” Harry asks conversationally with a cheeky grin. Louis knows he is about to get a very Harry answer. He won’t complain about not being able to have caffeine or the way his back hurts a little in the evenings, or stretch marks even.

“I’m having to give up so many nice clothes,” he pouts. It’s ridiculous. He’s ridiculous, and Louis couldn’t love him more.

“I’ll buy you more,” he replies, finally pushing away from leaning on the bathroom door and stepping toward him. Louis always thought people were over exaggerating the glow but Harry truly does shine, every time Louis sees him he glows. It’s this vibrant warmth and beauty. He looks so wonderful standing here in their bedroom that Louis can’t help but hold him and kiss him.

“You look perfect,” he says against his lips. “Every inch and curve, especially this one. I just want to show you off.”

Harry whines like he knows, and Louis rubs his palms over his hips and stomach.

“Just a few more weeks,” Louis reminds him. They agreed on a date and everything, because there will eventually come a time when baggy shirts won’t hide it. “I love this little bump,” he tells Harry making his eyes shine brighter and his cheeks light up. “And this little bump,” he says kissing Harry’s nose so it scrunches up and he laughs.

.

At just past fourteen weeks and politely settled into the second trimester they spill the news. Mostly because they can’t wait any longer. Louis snaps a picture of Harry’s tiny bump with beneath a tight white shirt. Harry captions the picture, “Fourteen weeks down.” Louis goes for an almost identical picture with Harry grinning at the camera captioned, “Baby with baby!”

There is an official statement released within the hype of it all but their little personal touches are what garner the most attention. Including Harry posting to twitter that at fourteen weeks their baby already has it’s own set of fully formed unique fingerprints. It starts an avalanche effect of sickeningly sweet interactions that probably nauseate everyone.

It’s somewhere before the sun has risen that Harry wakes one night, a little overtired and with a headache that just won’t go away. He lays restless for a while before he grumpily pulls himself out of the sheets and Louis’ arms to go to the bathroom again. The reflection he sees in the bathroom mirror in the dim light isn’t a pretty one. His stomach grumbles and he sneaks back to bed, where it continues to grumble away. He swears he isn’t hungry. Harry tosses and turns watching the clock on the bedside table tick away.

He’s adamant he’ll just fall back asleep but it never happens, stubborn as always he lays there arms folded willing sleep or for the constant cycle of food running through his head to slow down.

“What do you want?” Louis asks suddenly, his arms wrapping Harry up tighter and pulling his back against his chest instinctively with a protective hand over their baby. “I’ll make it for you.”

“Nothing.”

“Harry,” Louis sighs sleepily. “You’ve been wriggling around for an hour now.”

When Harry still doesn’t reply, he asks softly, “Do you want a foot rub?”

Harry shakes his head in the dark room and lets out a quiet little, “No,” before adding with a sigh, “I just want a smoothie or something.”

Louis lets go of him not without kissing his bare shoulder and rubbing a circular pattern over his little belly. He switches the lamp on and Harry feels guilty. Louis is all tired smiles however, grabbing one of Harry’s shirts from where it has been left and slipping it over his head. Harry bites at his lip and sits up against the pillows. “Um, could you just do spinach and berries?” he asks politely, knowing Louis’ will raise his eyebrows and pull a face at the thought. He does even though it can’t be past four o’clock in the morning thus getting a smile out of a Harry who wants more than anything to be asleep right now.

When Louis brings him the glass (with a straw and everything) Harry apologizes and drinks it as fast as humanly possible. “Anything for you two,” Louis says, meaning he doesn’t get the spinach cravings but he gets and loves Harry and that is all that really matters.

Harry sniffles a little bit trying to not get emotional and cry. He knew it would get like this and sometimes he just feels so silly and like he can’t find solid ground with his feelings. Louis holds him tight and is his anchor, rubbing his feet and finding a scented candle he thinks will help.

Harry still has trouble falling asleep, even with the covers kicked off he is so warm. The only thing that helps is Louis slowly singing them to sleep and rubbing his forehead, Harry thinks of how much the baby must love his voice already. He dozes off eventually with a tiny little snore nestled into Louis side. It’s then that Louis blows out the candle and falls back asleep.

.

Harry loves being pregnant. He loves it with its positives and the negatives. The good outweighs the bad continually, and he knows there is nothing he would endure or go through to change his mind. He could not sleep for a whole week but still be happily pregnant every time the sun came up. He is the miracle of lifes number one advocate.

It makes everyday an adventure and he never feels alone with his new favourite pal tucked up in his belly and under his shirt. He is never lonely, and is always ready to strike up a conversation with his unborn child. Even in the supermarket where he looks a little silly.  The feeling of having a little bump only furthers this, its a nice little visual reminder for him and everyone else to see. He also loves it because Louis’ loves it. And he loves them, this and us.

And that includes foot rubs on Sunday mornings, walks in the park, baby name books and the gentlest murmur of ‘marry me’ that settles into every single action. It starts as a giggle between the sheets as the sun rises, a breathless moment and Louis simply laughing quietly into Harry’s ear, “Marry me.”

Harry says yes without thinking, without wondering and before his heart can even skip a beat. He keeps kissing him drunk on it.

And then he just keeps asking. Tea next to the fire and the wind howling, “Marry me.” Walking down the beach with sand between their toes, “Marry me.” The phone line bad but the feeling of home overwhelming as you finally hop off the plane. “Marry me.”

Harry keeps on saying yes without a care in the world. And he means every word of it. And that is that. They are going to get married one day.

.

The first time Louis’ talks about it publically Harry doesn’t know he is going to. It’s not that they agreed to be super private (because they really aren’t in a lot of aspects, like the pictures Louis’ likes to put on twitter of Harry curled up half asleep on the sofa drooling) but Harry didn’t think he would want to. Louis’ knows him too well to know that Harry loves every second of it. He likes being mushy and gushy, and he loves Louis talking about him which is probably why he surprised him with it.

He’s watching Louis’ on Graham Norton and then all of a sudden they are talking about Harry to Louis. It’s obviously pre planned because they even have a number of cute shots of Harry and Louis from their private collection. There is even one of Harry grinning and lying on the ultrasound table at their first visit, his flat stomach displayed proudly. Harry hides his head behind a pillow to stop his blushing as Louis gushes about him as fond as ever.

“I thought, you know pregnant you’re eating for two,” Louis says starting his story, “eat anything you want and whatever no guilt. I was like, what do you want? Pizza? Chocolate? Whatever, no judgement here.”

The audience laughs and Harry, from their couch, knows exactly where this is going.

“And he’s like, ‘Oh, I just want kale and pine nuts,’” Louis says with his best and sweetest impression of harry, “He craved spinach for two weeks. I don’t think there’s ever been more of a health obsessed person. None of the books could’ve prepared me for this.”

Harry can’t help what his baby wants.”That’s your daddy,” he says softly, resting his palms on his belly and rubbing back and forth. “Look at him making us proud,” he says again, hoping he can feel a flutter or something under his hands. “He loves you very much,” he says again, hoping the baby loves the sound of his voice, hoping it soothes them and they truly can hear how much they both really love their little bub. At fifteen weeks he knows they can hear. He can’t stop smiling for hours after it finishes airing, or when Louis comes home eventually and he smothers him with kisses.

.

“I think everyone else in my class can feel their baby now,” Harry pouts, referring to his yoga classes as Louis tries to wash his hair with gentle fingers in the tub. Harry rests his back against Louis’ chest, their bump out the front between them in the bath.

“What?” Louis asks offended. With a slight laugh he adds, looking down at Harry’s ever growing but still very politely delicate bump, “Banana baby don’t want to say hello?”

At twenty weeks the baby is about the length of an averaged sized banana much to both Louis and Harry’s amusement. Harry tries to lift his hand out of the water to swat at Louis’ face as they both laugh. “Leave ‘em alone,” he giggles mock offended. “Not their fault.”

Louis hums and goes back to work washing Harry’s hair. It’s gotten a lot thicker and shiner much to Harry’s joy (and Louis’ own happiness, a bit curlier). “They say it’s easier if it’s your second or third time,” Louis continues, spilling his own pregnancy knowledge proudly. “You must just get used to it more or something.”

Harry sighs. He knows. It’s just a bit annoying to sit in class with people who keep giggling every time they switch positions because someone keeps wiggling around. All Harry gets is almost maybe flutters (which he has to discredit when he burps a minute later).  Harry has to find his zen and ignore all his jealous feelings. It also doesn’t help he has the littlest bump ever.

The midwife and everyone has told him he is growing at a perfectly healthy weight, has put on a good amount and the baby is perfect, steadily growing with a strong heartbeat and a fighter's spirit. When he complained to Lucy he just wasn’t getting bumpy enough she laughed and told him it is probably because of his tiny hips. He was offended. He has good child rearing hips and amazing baby making thighs. Louis says the bump is dainty. Harry pouts mid thought as Louis washes the shampoo from his hair.

“Yeah,” he agrees finally. “I know. It will happen when we least expect it.”

“And then you’ll want to go back to this,” Louis says grabbing Harry’s fancy conditioner.

Harry makes a face Louis can’t see. “Not likely.”

He laughs as he puts the conditioner on the ends of Harry’s hair and rubs it around, Harry’s eyes closing gently and a small smile falling onto his face contently. “Sorry,” Louis apologises. “I forgot, I’m sure you’ll love when she kicks your lungs.”

“I will.”

Once they have finished washing Harry’s hair Louis continues pampering him by washing him all over with a gentle body wash. Louis is careful to make sure he gets the spots that he knows hurt the most and are a bit tender, but when he drags the flannel over Harry’s chest rubbing against his nipples Harry’s eyes  jump back open. He can’t help the little noise that escapes from his lips startling them both. He tries to stop his back from arching and his palms from latching onto Louis’ thighs.

“Oops,” Louis replies, as it is all he has to say for himself. Harry is sure he did this on purpose. He can’t get them out of the bath and dry quicker, tugging Louis’ toward their bedroom and flopping them on the bed.

“They’re quite sensitive,” Harry whispers, kissing Louis and pulling him closer. He wraps his leg around his back as they roll across the bed and Harry ends up underneath him. Louis smiles sweetly and kisses Harry just a bit too softly for his liking.

Their sex life hasn’t taken a dip for the most part, if anything it has gotten a bit better. But Louis is softer with him and always reassuring. It’s lovely. But sometimes Harry misses when he would spank him without questions and not give him a shocked look to say, ‘What about the baby?’ before pecking the end of his nose and making sweet gentle love to him. It’s gooey and warm, Harry loves Louis holding him and touching their baby he is carrying. But sometimes you just want kinky stuff.

So when Harry tries to put Louis’ hands in his hair and bite at his collar he’s trying to send a message. But Louis reaction tells him that message hasn’t been received. Louis strokes his hair instead of tugging it and Harry has to huff out a sigh against his neck.

“Pull my hair,” Harry whines. It’s damp from the bath and Harry wants what he wants.

Louis pulls back to give him one of those looks before Harry breaks out again, “Please,” he begs. “I’ll cry if you don’t.”

He could cry. He probably would. The thought of Louis denying him this makes his bottom lip wobble because of all these hormones. He knows Louis doesn’t want it to end like that.

“Alright,” Louis replies finally, causing fireworks to explode in Harry’s imagination. He might get what he wants tonight.

Louis goes back to kissing him, this time a little rougher with tongue and teeth. And his hands settle neatly in Harry’s hair gently threading it between his fingers and clenching around it, tugging from his scalp. Harry moans delicately and his head falls back against the pillows. There is just something about being pregnant that makes everything ten times better.

Between the rough kissing that turns Harry’s lips cherry coloured and Louis tugging his hair, Harry pants out, “Eat me out please. I’ve been thinking about it all day,” into his ear with hot breath.

“Are you going to be good?” Louis inquires with a cheeky smile and knowing look. Harry nods before he even gets the last word out, so desperate for it. “The best,” he replies.

And like that, Harry finally gets what he wants.

Louis doesn’t flip him over like he normally would, instead he keeps Harry on his back and secures his head against the pillows, careful of his neck. Harry willingly melts into his touch and lifts his legs up, bending his knees and holding them as best as he can. He lays wide open in the sheets.

“Don’t move,” Louis says with a devilish glint in his eyes. It is a look Harry loves.

He isn’t slow to get started, Harry knows none of this will if he has his way, Louis doesn’t tease. He just spreads him open wide and presses his tongue wide across his hole, deep and with thick stripes up and down. It instantly sends Harry to another place behind his clenched eyes, that wonderland sends sparks across his whole body. He has been waiting for this for days.

It’s almost like every feeling is doubled.

Louis’ palms wander, groping Harry’s cheeks and thighs and digging in. He aims to leave little reminds with the sparks of pain. Harry is sensitive and nosy, little noises escaping his mouth and getting louder as they go on, but Louis is relentless at joining him with his mouth and hands. He sends a slap echoing off Harry’s arse against the walls, and Harry whimpers so loudly he sounds almost close to tears.

It edges him on. Louis spreads him wider and pushes his whole face it in, wet and messy with faster, tighter licks and more control with his hands. He starts managing to thrust in just a little bit.

Harry is hard and his palms fail to hold his legs back much longer, weak and tired with wear. His legs go. His hands fall against the sheets and grip the white between his fingers, knuckles bleaching. His legs fall victim to Louis’ control and Harry falls into his heat as this goes on for longer.

His mind is a stream of pressure, Louis and pleasure. It coils him up so tight he feels tears dripping from his eyes in the best way. Louis must know he is crying now, he must have always known it would end that way. Harry sobs and tries his best to stop his hips from moving, he puts all his tension into the sheets, pulling them tight. He comes unexpectedly with a hiccup, his thighs curling around Louis and his back arching just slightly as he paints his stomach white.

He’s mostly untouched, crying and breaking down as he thunders through the glow.

.

Louis drops of a few wet towels into the laundry basket, promising himself he will do them in the morning and spare Harry the work. Louis’ knows he will never complain but he is sure standing and bending for long periods of time is starting to become uncomfortable. It has to be taking a bit of pressure now. He switches the lights off and closes the doors in the hall for the night like the responsible husband he is. Not technically husband, he corrects himself mentally. It is a bad habit.

He knows he’s not one of those complacent guys that is too lazy to propose, and acts as if he is married without getting down on one knee. All he needs to do is finalise the ring designs and he is ready. But considering how bloody hard it is too pick, it might take a while.

Hence the whole I can’t wait to get married and we are totally married situation. Louis hums to himself and doesn’t mind his step as he walks into their bedroom, ready to just flop on the bed. He had left Harry reading a book, occasionally jotting down things in his baby journal, and was prepared to come back to him still awake with his nose buried.

He lays on his side, slumped against the pillows with the book resting against his protruding bump. And very very sound asleep. His lashes cast shadows on his cheeks and occasionally he lets out a little snore. Louis is glad he isn’t in for another restless night.

He is mindful as he carefully removes the baby name book, fluffs the pillows and pulls the sheet just up to his thighs. Louis’ knows how warm he can get. He checks to make sure there is a glass full of water on the side table and thinks it’s alright he joins him once the lights are off and their side table lamp is on, casting deep shadows.

Louis slides in next to him on his side, as gentle as possible as not to wake them up. Harry looks wonderful and so at peace. He blushes just slightly when you tell him, but he truly does glow, Louis thinks. After all his complaining the last few weeks have finally brought a little more bump to his bump. It’s perfect in every way, just a bit round with soft edges and always growing at a gentle pace. Louis said their baby marches to the beat of their own drum already, Harry agreed.

They seem to like to do things on their own terms, a bit like their dads then.

He know he shouldn’t, but he grabs his phone anyway and lifts it high above them. In the dim light lit by the bedside lamp you can clearly make out Harry’s back pressed up against Louis’ stomach and his baby bump out the front. With his free hand Louis places it on his hip, spreading his fingers and holding him. He snaps a picture of them, their faces just obscured but their bodies next to each other in the dim light.

He notices Harry’s lips quirk to the side a little and Louis’ leans down to peck at them softly. “Are you taking pictures of me?” Harry asks softly, with a sleepy voice and closed eyes.

Louis hums in agreement as he puts his phone back where it belongs. “You’re just too cute.”

When Harry wakes in the morning he wants to see the pictures, Louis shows him before he wills himself to go to the washing. He sleepily pours powder into the machine with one hand and uploads the picture to Instagram with the other. He shamelessly captions it, “My little spoons,” without a second thought and as proud as he could possibly be.

.

They will be making dinner and Harry will stop suddenly, freezing up and placing a hand on the curve of his belly to check. “I think that might have been something,” he pouts, face clouding, annoyed he isn’t sure. They will be in the grocery store, loading a trolley with different fruits, cereals and sneaky chocolates and Harry drops what he is holding. “I definitely felt something,” he will giggle despite it being the littlest something in the world and nothing but a small jolt of feeling. It happens in parks, Zayn’s kitchen and everywhere under the sun before Harry well and truly got kicked. Louis feels nothing but it’s alright, the way Harry’s face lights up and his clutches at his round stomach is enough to satisfy him.

Harry is trying to find shirts in Saint Laurent and it is giving everyone a headache. Harry because he is tired and emotional about leopard prints. Louis because his arms hurt from all the bags he is carrying and he gets anxious when Harry gets upset. And the assistant helping them, because she is desperately trying to aid them to the best of her ability but she just can’t magically find bigger sizes that don’t exist.

“Maybe we could just try somewhere else?” Louis says quietly beneath his breath and just for Harry to hear.

He knows Harry isn’t going to be slumming it in department store pregnancy rags (his words, not Louis’) anytime soon. He knows for sure, as he takes Harry in standing across the room from him in custom made black ripped jeans, a tight white shirt  showing off every curve and a leather jacket by Alexander McQueen, gifted to him with a matching mini sized one last week. Plus, heeled printed boots and sunglasses perched into his free flowing curls. Harry tilts his head and purses his lips. He looks ridiculously cute as he holds a pile of shirts in one hand and puts the other on his hip, right next to his protruding baby bump.

“I don’t care how long it takes, I really want these,” he says looking too adorable for his bite to leave any mark. He starts again at Louis with a sarcastic tone, “I’m sorry you don’t care-”

Harry stops himself mid sentence, his mouth half open and his eyes double in size suddenly. The store is mostly silent other than a few professional clients murmuring and the clicking of heels against the floor as well dressed shop assistants meticulously organise things. Harry’s mouth drops open fully and his eyebrows shoot up.

“That was definitely it,” he practically shouts, dropping his selections and both of his hands reaching toward his bump. “Baby really kicked me. Like really, really.”

Louis, not skipping a beat, rushes forward toward him instinctively. Their assistant standing awkwardly, doing her best to be professional and not grin. “Really?” he questions, the smile evident in his voice.

“Yeah,” Harry giggles, electrifying and suddenly bright . “Here, Here-” he says grabbing Louis’ palm and bracketing it against his own in search of their baby’s rouge foot.

They can’t wipe the grins off their faces as Harry tries to encourage another movement or kick that Louis will be able to feel. “It was really the biggest I’ve felt, they really just-” he says, before stopping again as the baby wriggles just a tad and Louis’ feels it against his palm. It is the tiniest bubble of a touch.

It is the strangest yet best feeling he has experienced and his eyes dart between their conjoined palms and Harry’s sparkling eyes in awe. “I can’t believe this is what it took for them to say hello. Saint Laurent.”

They don’t notice the fact that everyone is watching them laugh in the middle of the store, even the security guard that minds the door watches on with slight fondness as Louis greets their unborn baby, the leopard print shirts long abandoned.

.

Louis was never fond of model types. One person changed all of that. But it still doesn’t mean he gets the whole thing, he’s more into television studios and action sets, Harry’s world is more people who ignore you and pure filtered water as the only lunch option on catering.

At least that is what Louis experiences every time he ends up at as a bystander at a shoot. Harry looks completely gorgeous under the bright lights and draped with soft sheets. He poses in a washed out pair of jeans that fit nicely against his bump with their elastic waist band. Harry is proudly the face of Paige denim and their maternity collection. He is obliged to wear them but Louis’ is sure once they have the right shots Harry will move into something more natural.

It turns out eventually natural is barely anything at all for Harry. Louis could’ve guessed that one.

Louis stays in the shadows and out of the way of everyone, he was noncommittal when Harry begged him to come. Deep down he already knew he wouldn’t miss it for the world, but he always has a strange desire to surprise Harry. He knows he likes the thrill of it and he sees it in his blinding little grins every time.

“You know,” a voice says behind him, “If he sees you he will make you get in the shot with him.”

Louis turns around to see none other than his own sister staring back at him.

“Why are you giving me that look?” Lottie asks. “You knew I’d be here this weekend.”

He did know. He had to clean out the spare bedroom. “Yeah of course, we’re painting the baby’s room tomorrow.”

He grins back at him and he realises she is wearing a crew pass. He is so happy Harry could do this for her and that he treats her like a younger sister already, he relishes in practicing parenting techniques on her and Louis knows it.

“Louis,” Harry squeals for across the room, recognising his face. Louis turns and gives him a little wave, but Harry beacons him with a finger and a pout. He can’t help but give in, he looks so pretty with braids in his hair and a halo of olive leaves. He wears little else.

“I knew you would do this,” he giggles. “I knew you would surprise me.”

“Did it work?” Louis asks.

Harry grins. “Yes.”

.

Harry sits with his shoulders and head propped up just slightly on the pillows so he can do his best to see over his ever growing baby bump. Louis pours some of his fancy, and not that pleasant smelling, cream onto his palm and does his best to rub against his bare skin in a quick motion. Harry hums contently as Louis’ fingers work little bits of magic into his frown. While bigger than he has ever been, Harry’s bump is still the perfect size Louis compliments. He carries in one spot, and from the back you would never be able to tell Harry is hiding  a growing life, with his figure still slender and toned. Louis’ always knows, it never leaves his head.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now,” Louis says softly, with a bit of a teasing tone. Harry doesn’t open his eyes to answer but the corners of his mouth jut up just a tad as he lets out a little sound of protest. It is a clear sign to Louis’ that he is losing the war against sleep. He continues to rub the cream into his tightly strung skin, trying his best to relieve any tensions or aches, the exact way he knows Harry loves. He likes doing this. He hums under his breath a familiar tune and hopes the baby is falling in love with the sound of his voice as much as they seem to love Harry’s (he treats them like best friends already, tells them he loves them when he wakes up and when he lays down at the end of the day).

After a while, and when Louis thinks he may have lost him to slumber, Harry softly says, “Tell me a name you like.”

Louis’ supposes it is what has been running around his mind as he lay here peacefully, the thought that has been causing his eyelashes to flutter occasionally and his eyebrows to nudge together. He smiles at the thought of Harry’s inner workings. He tries not to think too hard and just gather one from the top of his head. “Miles.”

He doesn’t make much noise in agreement or complaint, Harry just seems to ponder over it. After a while he says quietly, “I like Brie.”

“Leah?” Louis replies.

“Hunter.”

“Dylan.”

Harry giggles and finally opens his sleepy eyes again in the pale lit room, the curtains are drawn and the moon is out. “I like them all,” he whispers, bright and lifting his hand from the white sheets to link his fingers with Louis’ against his belly.

.

It is a production wrap party in LA. It has been penciled into a diary for months, but that doesn’t stop the annoying feeling Harry has about it. He is jet lagged he knows, the stamps in his passport can account for that. The packed bags sitting by the door also remind him this time tomorrow they will be out of here and back in London before flying restrictions trap him here. Harry slumps against the door frame of their walk in wardrobe and sighs. He is tired, Louis doesn’t need to know that.

He spends too much time staring emptily into the dark closet. It seems like an impossible task to try and pick something to wear. Both because his limbs feel heavy and because he isn’t sure he wants to try something on and have it not fit. Not that he cares, it is just an annoyance. Like his feet hurt so much sometimes he contemplates wearing comfortable shoes. The horror.

Eventually Harry pulls himself from the wall, slips on a loose and free flowing shirt with a pair of tight jeans with their elastic waistband sitting snug around his waist and belly . He’s so tired after slipping them on he lies back on their bed and eats away at a bowl of cubed watermelon chunks he had prepared earlier, with his feet up and his head back. He tries to balance the bowl on his bump, a skill he has acquired recently that he enjoys. He loves the miracle of life and everything, but he just wishes he could spend all day doing naked yoga and not going to high profile parties.

When Louis gets home he is wearing a suit, already fabulously ready and coming from a photocall. Harry is snoring slightly with a piece of watermelon in his palm that never reached his mouth.

“Baby,” he says crouching down at the side of the bed, removing the bowl and the rouge fruit in his sticky hand. He tries again softer, reaching out to gently palm at Harry’s cheek and move his hair from his face. He stirs suddenly, really only half asleep. “Hi,” Louis grins softly, his other hand reaching out to gently brush at Harry’s baby bump, his belly poking out far and wide. He rubs a thumb gently against the fabric of his shirt and where his belly button is beginning to pop.

“Morning,” Harry says, his eyes opening and with a little smile that quickly turns into a pout wishing for kisses. Louis pecks at his lips and reaches down to peck at his bump. Harry reaches out to rub at his eyes with his hand and yawn, Louis is reminded of why he likes to call him kitten.

“Are you ready doll?” he asks with a concerned tone. “You don’t have to come-”

Harry frowns.“I am.”

Louis helps him get off his back with a bit of a struggle, he sits on the side of the bed his feet on the floor with some gentle guidance. He is finally getting to a stage where his bump starts to limit him more than it did before, it also means he walks a little bit more like a waddle now. Louis finds it adorable. “Can you grab my boots?”

Louis leaves him rubbing at his face and walks into their wardrobe, filled almost evenly with their belongings. He thinks Harry does take up a little more than half his side. He thinks he is correct with that judgment as he stares at the rack of boots. “What ones?” he calls out.

“The black ones,” Harry replies almost instantly.

Louis looks at the five pairs of almost identical black boots. “Little more specific babe.”

“Black lizard skin,” Harry calls back. After a moment of silence and confusion on Louis’ part he adds, “The ones you don’t like.”

Louis grabs the pair from the rack between the gold ones and chocolate brown pair. “I don’t not like them,” he replies as he walks out and back into their bedroom, “I am offended you would think that.”

Harry clutches at his belly and rubs at their baby bump, carefully asking for good behaviour tonight. He must still hear what Louis’ says because he smiles a little brighter and rolls his eyes. Louis kneels down and politely puts the boots on Harry’s feet for him so he doesn’t have to bend over. He keeps all comments on comfortable footwear to himself, last time he tried to get Harry in a pair of flat vans or converse Harry made him sleep on the couch.

“Alright,” Harry says once he is done, he still has hands on his swollen stomach and Louis leans up to place his own on top.

“Hey,” he says talking to his bump, “Be good tonight for your daddies.”

As he talks he can feel a small shift and kick beneath their palms. He smiles fondly the same way he did the first time he felt it, twinkling eyes looking up at Harry, both proud. “We’ve been kicking all day,” Harry sighs, a little tired and uncomfortable but seriously proud and a bit braggy. Louis knows the tone, because it comes out in full force during lamaze classes and it gets borderline too much when Harry acts like their child is already an olympian. Louis won’t admit he is just as guilty.

He pulls him up from the bed and Harry just fixes his hair in the bathroom for a bit and then they are off.

.

They mingle and Harry is really good at it despite being the only sober person in the room. He has always been good at creating conversation and with Louis by his side introducing him to everyone and anyone he feels more confident than ever. He is the first to admit being pregnant has given him a boost of life and confidence in himself. He doesn’t just glow outwardly.

He is chatting to Niall when Louis pulls over someone called Eric who introduces himself with a handshake. Louis instinctively wraps an arm around Harry’s waist protectively without thought, keeping him close in the crowds of fabulous and excitable movie stars. “It’s lovely to finally meet you Harry, I’ve honestly heard so much about you from this one here,” he compliments.

Louis tugs Harry by the waist a little tighter, as he smiles at him fondly and Harry grins back. He listens intently as him and Louis share a few personal jokes and talk about technical things he doesn’t quite understand. He loves seeing Louis in his element and keeps himself tucked under his wing. He is admiring Louis eyes when something that is said catches his attention.

“It’s not final,” Louis says.

“From what I’ve been hearing around it sounds pretty definite. I think the studio is pretty certain you’re their man.”

Louis’ body seems to physically react and Harry feels him tense.

“I’m just surprised you would consider such a big change. You must be proud,” the man says a bit quieter now, Harry watching him with a puzzled brow as he addresses him. He doesn't like that he doesn’t know what they mean. He feels out of the loop. “It’s perfect though. Perfect role. Big move,” he repeats as he steps away and moves toward the bar. “I’ll hopefully be seeing you soon. If it works out lets hang before you leave.”

Harry’s throat goes dry and he tries to pull himself out of Louis’ grip. “What is he talking about?” he asks, as calm as he can possibly be. He knows he might be jumping to conclusions, but can he be blamed? He puts his half empty glass on a tabletop and places his hand against his stomach. The baby keeps moving and pushing against Harry’s stomach.

Louis frowns. “Let’s step out,” he says tugging his arm and leading them through the room, leaving Niall and Zayn somewhere in the mass of people. They open the doors onto a patio and garden where a few people mingle and smoke. Louis pulls Harry away from them all as fast as possible and to a spot where a lamp glows near a section of bushes that edge the high fences. The air is cool and fresh there.

Harry knows he must be itching to grab at the packet of cigarettes in the pocket beneath his blazer but he refrains because he is trying to quit and he would never do that in front of Harry right now. “What was that about?” Harry repeats to Louis’ soft and worried eyes. He looks a little guilty. “What is he talking about moving for?”

“Just let me explain,” Louis replies, one of his hands carefully rubbing on Harry’s forearm to soothe him down. “I auditioned for something-”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Harry interrupts.

Louis doesn’t waste time saying, “It was months ago. And I really didn’t think it would matter.”

“Apparently it does,” Harry replies. He doesn’t want to get hysterical but his emotions sit just beneath the surface.

“I auditioned for this role, I didn’t think I would get it and it was supposed to just be a long shot. I haven’t even been offered it. But everyone is talking about it, plenty of people told me tonight they’ve heard the same thing,” he recounts carefully for Harry, stopping and pausing at the end. He genuinely sounds surprised.

Harry waits. “And?”

“I didn’t know when I auditioned. And I definitely didn’t know we would be having a baby back then,” he says. Harry notices he is on the defence, he predicts the worst. There is silence before he starts again.“It’s three months on location.”

Location could be Los Angeles where they can wake up with the windows half open, or London where they make a full English breakfast like they always do. Harry knows instantly it isn’t going to be an easy answer when he asks, “Where?”

Louis closes his eyes before saying, “New Zealand.”

That is a 24 hour flight away from their home in London. Their friends. Families. That is an idea Harry’s mind can’t even begin to comprehend. Does he let go of Louis for three months? Does he follow him to the end of the earth? Do they put their lives here on hold? How does he begin to make this choice with a newborn baby in the equation?

“I won’t take it, if they offer it I’ll say no,” he says grabbing Harry’s hands and trying to force him to look at him and his honest eyes.

“No,” Harry says suddenly, his mind stopping at a sudden halt. How could he let him do that? “You want this. We’re a family. We’ll make it work-”

“You don’t have to say that Harry-”

He tries not to cry. It isn’t what he bargained for, but he knew the possibilities and he knew the risk falling in love with Louis’.

“Louis,” he says trying to get him to listen properly. “I can see it in your eyes and I heard it when you were talking to him. This means a lot to you. I know how much you want it. This is what you’ve been waiting for, you always talk about the role. We’ll this is probably it and you don’t even have to spell it out for me.”

“We have months to decide,” he continues trying to force a watery smile, “and let’s not do this over a hypothetical event. I love you. Let’s go home.”

He opens his mouth to speak again but Louis’ says nothing as he watches Harry shake his head. “Alright, let’s go.”

.

They try not to talk about it until it happens. It was a long car ride home from that party where it mulled over and over again and again in Harry’s mind. Like a few things in life it would be temporary, either way if they stayed or went, he can’t help but compare that to the things he knows last forever. He will love Louis’ forever, no doubt and he already loves his child with a eternal unconditional desire. Three months is nothing.

If he wanted something safe, easy and predictable he could have had it. He could still be living where he grew up, he did have to risk it all as an eighteen year old trying to break into a killer industry. And he definitely didn’t have to fall in love with the most adventurous and challenging person he had ever met. But deep down he loves it, he would try deny it but everyone knows it. When he met Louis Tomlinson he started the greatest adventure of his life, it is a lifelong journey full of surprises he hopes will last forever. Or at least until they get old and boring.

Louis gets the phone call and tells them he will need to think about it. Harry is so proud he doesn’t stop kissing him for hours, giggling between breathless compliments and praise. He doesn’t stop telling him how proud their baby is of their daddy too. He claims he can tell.

It’s that night wrapped up in bed talking it out, scared, worried and setting off an adventure in their heads they decide on a name. It feels right to pick in then, make something final and start the beginning.  “I’ve been thinking hard,” Harry says softly, “I think Dylan Tomlinson, boy or girl.”

“I love it,” Louis replies honestly. He is the one who had suggested that name. “And we can pick middle names once they are born?”

Harry nods with a huge grin.

“And you really want to use my last name?”

He nods again, leaning in to kiss him against his lips. “Of course.”

.

Harry does fantastic (like Louis’ always knew he would, without a doubt in his head or a fault in his heart). He holds her for a few seconds pressed against his chest before she is taken to be cleaned and clothed. He doesn’t want to let her go, his hands trembling as she is picked up and for the first time in nine months he is without her, given to a strangers hands. He can’t remember a time without her. His heart only clenches for a second or two in panic before he notices it.

Louis keeps a close eye on her, showing the nurse the exact tiny outfit, hat and socks they had picked out carefully months and months ago. Harry thought he would be scared, giving her to the world and handing her over, he lays with eyes half closed and a body that tugs him toward sleep, exhausted completely, watching. It is okay. He watches Louis with her and his eyes water completely involuntarily. He hears someone distantly to his right telling him it is going to be alright, they squeeze his forearm and say they will give her back in a second he doesn’t need to cry, but he doesn’t think they get it. He wants to shush them, stop the noise and focus on the way he puts the hat on her head and admires her feet with crystalised eyes and a look of pure love he has never seen before. She’s not crying, she did for a second or two before but she is quiet now.

He wants to fall asleep, he wants to stay awake.

Louis scoops her up and she is wrapped in a bundle, a little pink cheeked face poking out beneath her white hat and the folds. Harry reaches an arm out for them as he realises he is bringing her back, he extends it wide despite the IV he has jammed in there. She snuffles a bit, the verge of tears again. It must be scary in this new world, but it must not be scary being held in safe arms like this.

Dylan means born near the sea, daughter of the wave.

Louis crouches next to the bed, lowering her to eye level and Harry turns his head. The hand that reached out to them strokes against her head gently, down her sides and toward Louis’ own fingers. He briefly links them. “She’s perfect,” Harry says, his throat constricting.

“You made her,” Louis replies, sounding impossibly proud. She squeezes her eyes shut.

He made her. She’s made of lightning. And the sea, the water, the waves and sky.

They stay like that for a few moments, Harry in awe and Louis continually whispering how proud he is and how much he loves him and look at what you’ve made, look at what we have created. It doesn’t take long for Harry’s arms to feel empty again, he fears though if he gets her back he might never let her go. He gets handed his daughter again and there it is, between her tiny cheeks and Louis’ wiping his eyes and resting his head against Harry’s shoulder, he notices the meaning of home he learnt all those months ago.

.

**6 Months Later**

The wind is whipping a gentle gust around the back of the house that Harry has grown to be fond of. It’s warm out, so he doesn’t mind it as much, and it cools down the house where it escapes through the partially opened windows. There is a vinyl playing, and other than that the house is almost silent.

Dylan is beautiful like the vision of where the sea meets the horizon out their back windows of this refurbished bungalow. Her eyes clear blue and endless. She is all things wonderful and bright and pure. The greatest gift in the world. At six months she is getting strong, her favourite new hobby is being held on Louis’ legs, her weight being supported but her little legs holding her up so she can bop up and down. They think she will walk early, she is the type that does something when she puts her mind to it. Harry thinks that is a definite Louis’ trait.

Harry is putting a lemon cake in the oven when she starts to cry because she finishes her afternoon sleep, right on time for her to be waking up. He puts the timer on and sneaks down the hall to her bedroom cooing as he pushes the half open door wide and spots her tear stained cheeks in her crib.

“Good morning sunshine,” he greats. Her bright sunny room testimony to the fact that she is indeed made of the stars, the sun and everything magical he can think of. Her room back in London is similar, but this one is more eclectic. Harry picked a lot of the items up at markets by the harbour and a few second hand stores over the hills. They do a lot adventures now days, nothing has changed, apart from having a baby in Louis’ arms next to him.

She hears his familiar voice and stops wailing, her head turning to spot her dad coming to fetch her. Like Harry had hoped for a whole long nine months she has Louis eyes. Her wispy hair curls at the ends around her ears. He scoops her up as her little fingers reach for him and cuddles her close to his chest. Her favourite spot. There is nothing he loves more than holding her in his arms, feeling her breath and protecting her.

He sometimes misses the days when they were together all day everyday, he doesn’t miss the kicking, and he is always reminded of this when she ends up sleeping in their bed.

Harry rocks her until she stops crying which is quick and painless, he changes her out of her sleeping outfit and into a summery dress, as well as her nappy and wipes her hands clean with a wipe. Like normal she doesn’t stop babbling to him and trying to grab at things. He adds an elastic  headband to her head and slips her tiny pink leather booties onto her feeties she keeps actively kicking about.

Harry lays out a picnic blanket in the yard and that is where they spend the afternoon. Dylan drinks a bottle and entertains the two of them with her selection of toys as she does her best laying on her belly and sitting against her daddy. Harry loves spending time like this with his best friend. The sun is low in the sky and the wind has died down when Louis arrives home.

When he opens the back door where they deck extends out into the grassy yard Harry thinks of how they are going home next week. He will pack this all up into boxes carefully marked, he will take his daughter and the love of his life and leave this all behind. Wellington was their home for three months. Louis and Dylan will be his home for life.

They will go home and Harry is going back to work, he is a little scared and anxious. Everything will change and he is so glad that after this Louis has decided to take an extended break. They work best that way the three of them. They both shine so bright, but sometimes you needed to step back and shove the other into the spotlight. Harry only learnt that as he got older and wiser.

Dylan’s face lights up when she sees him, little squeals leaving her mouth that make Harry burst with pride. It is a wonderful life.

“Hi love,” Louis says, kissing Harry gently with a peck against his lips, their baby nestled between them as he crouches down on their blanket.

“Hi. Missed you,” Harry replies, leaning in to kiss him again. Louis scoops Dylan up and raises her in the air far above his head. She blends in with the blue sky, the clouds gently parting and the rich green leaves from the trees that surround them. Harry flops back on the blanket, the grass tickling his arms and stares at them. She giggles and flaps her arms, he lowers her to kiss at every inch of her face. “I missed you both,” Louis says.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and for making it to the end. I love comments, and I love kudos. My tumblr is itiswhatitisbutterfly /or find me at twitter @arohahl if you would like to discuss mpreg and/or babies.
> 
> PS: Miranda Kerr and Orlando Bloom were my first inspiration for this fic, they lived in Wellington with their son Flynn while Orlando shot the hobbit films. That is where that comes from. Also, I live in New Zealand shhhhhhhhh.
> 
> Also, I picked the name Dylan like before I even started this, it is one of my favourite girls names. I was writing the scene where she is born when I googled the name meaning, turns out it was nautical HAAAHA. I hate my life.


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